


Begging for Thread

by Kittenshift17



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dragons, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2019-01-13
Packaged: 2019-06-27 13:58:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15686820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittenshift17/pseuds/Kittenshift17
Summary: Arriving at Grimmauld Place in the summer before 7th year, Hermione decides to move out of the room she shared with Ginny and to claim a room for herself. Too bad the one she set her sights on is already occupied by a certain sexy Dragon Tamer.





	1. Chapter One

Hermione Granger crossed the threshold of Number 12 Grimmauld Place nearing midnight two weeks into the summer before her seventh year. She was tired, having only just flown back in from France that very afternoon. She'd left her mother and father, their memories modified, on the Continent and she was heartbroken with their loss. Her shoulders were tight with tension, Crookshanks yowling in his cage, hissing for release after so long spent fending for himself at Hogwarts where she'd left him in the care of Professor McGonagall while she got her parents set up in France.

She was tired, heartsore, and could honestly use a stiff drink. Dragging her trunk across the threshold, she flicked her wand to release her familiar, watching him streak away in search of Puffeskins to torment. Sighing, she stood at the bottom of the stairs for a long moment, staring up them forlornly. She didn't think she could face Ginny in the room they'd shared during her past visits when the Weasleys and many of the other members of the Order stayed at Headquarters.

Recalling that there was a room right at the top of the house that no one ever bothered to claim because of it's height and because it was rather cramped and small – in comparison to the other, larger bedrooms – Hermione gnawed her lip for a moment. Ginny wouldn't be offended. Not when Hermione told her that she'd changed rooms to keep from waking the girl with her whacky sleep schedule and the likelihood that she would cry herself to sleep until the ache in her chest with the loss of her parents began to subside.

It would be fine. She could claim the room for herself, and no one would mind. She was an adult, after all, and this was the closest thing she had to a home, now. Sighing again before beginning the long climb to the top of the house, Hermione paid no mind to the muttering portraits as she crept through the house. When she finally reached the bedroom at the top of the stairs, Hermione let herself into the room, standing her trunk inside it and leaning back against the door as she closed it behind her. She let her eyes squeeze shut on the urge she had to cry, for a long minute breathing unevenly as she wrestled for the self-control to keep from bawling. It wouldn't do to give in to torment now. Not when she still needed to unpack and get settled in.

When she opened her eyes, Hermione's mouth dropped open in surprise at the sight before her.

Across the room, looking mildly amused and comically surprised stood a strapping, red-haired wizard. He was stark naked, his chest glistening and his hair dripping as though he'd recently showered. His whole body was heavily freckled to the point that he looked tanned and he was covered in dragon tattoos. The tail of one curled around and around his left leg from his ankle and up his thigh, talons clawing at his torso and the body of the beast decorating his lithe and muscular torso, the neck of the beast disappearing around the back of his left shoulder and the head of the dragon looping over the top of his shoulder to bare its fangs right over his heart.

His right arm bore a smaller dragon, this one looking like a perfect depiction of a Hungarian Horntail hatchling that climbed the length of his arms and seemed to nip at his jaw. Hermione was able to see both tattoos clearly because they were currently all he wore.

"Oh…. My….." Hermione breathed, tracing her eyes over the delicious specimen of a man. He was all ropey muscles, knots of corded sinew and undeniable strength. Tall – at least six and a half foot - every inch of him was utter perfection and Hermione couldn't keep her eyes from tracing over his powerful chest, skidding down his washboard abs to rest on the jutting manhood nestled among a thatch of crimson curls.

"You're…. Naked," she breathed. "You're…. breathtaking…."

She gulped audibly and the surprised wizard suddenly smirked, his wild eyes tracing over her in return.

"You're in my room," he pointed out, and Hermione's eyes fluttered at the deep timbre of his voice. Merlin, she'd pay to have this man read to her in that alluring voice.

"This is  _my_  room," Hermione argued, lifting her eyes – with difficulty – from his package to his face, meeting his wild-eyed gaze boldly and just daring him to argue.

"Been sleeping here for weeks,  _koroleva_ ," he smirked. "Pretty sure it's my room."

"It's mine," Hermione insisted, unable to take her eyes off him despite the indecency of his nudity. "You're naked."

He chuckled.

"You could be too," he suggested. "In fact, I'll even let you stay in  _my_  room if you get naked too, love."

Hermione didn't know if it was the emotional strain she was under, the sleep-deprived state of her brain, or just the undeniable spark she felt as she looked at this man, but without a second thought she found her fingers flicking the spaghetti straps of her sundress from her shoulders, allowing the garment to slither to the floor, pooling about her feet and revealing her braless body to his gaze.

His eyes widened a little in surprise before he grinned just a bit, one corner of his mouth pulling up. He looked at her like he wanted to devour her, and Hermione found herself thinking she'd be more than willing to let him. Without hesitation, she reached for the waistband of her knickers, flicking them off her hips and sending them sliding down her thighs until she was just as naked as him. He didn't say anything snarky or smart-mouthed at her apparent cooperativeness, and he didn't smirk and taunt her for wanting him.

Indeed, he didn't say a word. Instead, he crossed the room until he invaded her space, his strapping form dwarfing her own petite frame considerably. Hermione tipped her head back to hold his gaze, looking up at him hungrily. Merlin, she'd never done anything so reckless and never wanted a man so much. She'd given her virginity away two summers ago to Viktor Krum when she'd visited with him in Bulgaria, and she'd spent a good deal of last year secretly shagging Theo Nott in a forgotten storeroom in the back of the library, so she was no stranger to sex, but there was something about this wizard that simply oozed sex appeal and made her instantly wet.

Merlin, she wanted him. She didn't even know his name, though from the red hair, the dragon tattoos, the dragon fang earring in his right ear, and those wild eyes, she'd be willing to bet that this was Charlie Weasley. Merlin, she'd met him briefly in her fourth year, but had barely noticed him, back then. Now, she couldn't un-see the impressive erection he sported as he closed in on her.

He lifted one hand to lean against the bedroom door at her back, the other smoothing across her right hip and raising goosepimples upon her skin. Without even thinking, she reached for him in return, putting her hands on his ribs and feeling the coiled power of his body under her hands. Lightning shot through her everywhere they touched, and Hermione gulped again, her breath growing shallow as she held his gaze, waiting for him to lean down close enough that she could kiss him. That crooked little smile on his face made her body throb needily, and when he slid his knee between her thighs, pressing it intimately against her pussy, Hermione moaned involuntarily. He used his leg to lift her just a little higher, leaning down toward her, his gaze dropping from her eyes to rest on her lips.

Hermione licked them nervously, stretching up to meet him.

When he kissed her, his lips barely brushing hers, feather-light, like the tickle of a soft flame over her skin, Hermione thought she might actually melt right there. Flames danced behind her eyes as her eyelids slid closed, and she gripped his ribs tighter, stretching higher, wanting more. His lips twitched against hers like he wanted to smile even as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving with hers, taking possession of hers, toying with her until she was delirious with the sensation and he hadn't even opened his mouth, yet.

His tongue traced her lower lip experimentally, and Hermione opened to him immediately, her tongue darting out to meet his. They both recoiled in surprise when a bolt of lightning shot through the pair of them at the sensation and he pulled back just a little, his eyes widening in surprise as he looked at her before his brow furrowed in confusion. Hermione made a soft sound, stretching up for another kiss, and he gave it, leaning into her harder, his tongue diving into her mouth and making her whole body tremble with the powerful sensation that coursed through her.

She found herself grinding against his thigh needily, her body thrumming with desire, her pussy pulsing with need like she'd never known. Merlin, it felt like he'd lit an inferno deep inside of her and every touch stoked the flames. Hermione groaned when Charlie's hands found their way to her bare breasts, cupping them and squeezing lightly. His hands were hot, his palms calloused, the rough skin tormenting the pebbled peaks her nipples made and Hermione moaned into his mouth, thrusting her chest out, desperate for more.

Her own hands trailed over his washboard abs, marveling at the ridges of muscle, her fingers following the fire-trail of hair that led south from his navel until she encountered auburn curls that nestled about the glorious cock he was prodding her stomach with insistently. Without fear of rejection, and with an eagerness that should've scared her, Hermione wrapped both hands around the hot, throbbing appendage. Charlie groaned into her mouth at the feel of her hands on his dick and Hermione smiled, breaking from his lips to trail a line of kisses over his sharp jaw, dusted with five o'clock shadow, as it was. The rasp of it against her skin just turned her on all the more and she whined when he ground his thigh against her pussy, his hands on her hips encouraging her to rock against him. When he slid his hands further down, cupping her arse, Hermione thought she might die, she was so lustful.

Charlie slid his hand down the back of her right thigh, curling the appendage up, looping it over his hip, and Hermione groaned against his neck, mid love-bite, when he slid his free hand around and speared two fingers deep inside her tight pussy.

"Oh, gods," Hermione breathed, tightening her grip on his cock, pumping her hands up and down, working the full length of it to the best of her ability. When he curled his fingers deep inside her and beckoned, the rough pads of his fingers pressing against that special spot within her, Hermione sobbed against him.

"Fucking hell," she heard him mutter when she timed her pumps on his cock to the speed of his fingers moving inside her, increasing the speed as she chased the delicious fire he was stoking, the inferno building and building until she was sure she would explode.

Hermione whined when he cursed again, withdrawing his fingers from inside of her before she could come and prying her hands from his cock. He lifted her with ease, pinning her against the door and encouraging her to wrap both legs around his waist. The blunt head of his cock nudged at the junction of her thighs and Hermione thought she might die if he didn't hurry up.

"Merlin, Charlie," she muttered. "Please fuck me."

He didn't need any more encouragement, it seemed, because he didn't wait to be asked again. Aligning himself at her center, he eased into her with a tenderness that surprised her, burying himself inside of her until he was fully sheathed, her body impaled upon his glorious cock. Hermione's breath came in ragged gasps, her eyes lifting to his face, her synapses firing, her mind racing, her heart pounding.

Gods, it was coming. Hard and fast, the most powerful orgasm she'd ever experienced was coming at her like a fiery tornado, determined to sweep her up in its blazing heat.

"Fuck," Charlie whispered again when he met her panicked gaze, seeming similarly panicked. "I'm not going to last,  _koroleva_."

"Please fuck me," Hermione begged, unashamed of how much she wanted him and how badly she needed to come right in that moment.

Charlie obliged her, withdrawing from her slowly before slamming back into her hard enough to make her teeth crack together. The door rattled in its frame, the wood grating against her spine. He did it again, withdrawing slowly and slamming in so hard she was sure he did it like he wanted to hurt her. Maybe he did. Maybe he was as confused and as consumed by this raging heat as she was. Maybe he was burning with need and just waiting to explode.

"Stupid, bloody door," he huffed, working to a rhythm, the door rattling all the more as every thrust grew faster and harder.

Hermione clung to him for dear life, her arms looped around his neck, and her ankles locked against the small of his back as he took her like a man possessed. When he tore them both away from the door before they could fuck it right off it's hinges and wake the entire household, he reached up to claim her lips for a hot snog, his tongue diving into her mouth and sending lightning shooting through her all over again. He carried her across the room, kneeling on the end of the bed and shuffling on his knees as he kissed her.

The breath huffed from her lungs and her back arched when he dropped down on top of her, his cock driving into her even deeper.

"So fucking tight," he muttered, breaking from her lips to kiss his way down her neck and over her chest. He latched onto her left nipple and Hermione thought she might die even before he untangled her legs from around his waist and lifted them, slinging them both over his shoulders and driving into her from a new angle.

It would be her undoing.

"Fuck," Hermione whispered raggedly, her breath sawing in and out. The inferno engulfed her as he snapped his hips, driving into her so hard and fast that their flesh slapped together, making her crazy, filling her over and over again to the brink and then just a little beyond it, making her ache just a bit.

The orgasm swept her up and Charlie put his hand over her mouth to muffle her scream when she threw her head back, her whole body tightening, trembling, shuddering with the power of her release. Her nails bit into his powerful arms as she came, and her head tossed from side to side with the blinding pleasure that claimed her.

"Fuck, yeah," she heard Charlie mutter triumphantly, his thrusts getting faster, harder, a little less rhythmic. His breath grew harsh and he groaned softly when he suddenly slammed into her one last time, burying himself to the hilt and spilling his seed against her womb.

He collapsed on top of her bonelessly, crushing her into the mattress, but Hermione didn't mind. In fact, she welcomed it. Curling her arms around his powerful shoulders, Hermione traced nonsensical patterns over his back.

"You alright?" he asked after a time as they both got their breath back.

"I'm great," Hermione admitted, smiling sleepily and thinking that she really wouldn't mind if every day ended this way.

"Tired?" he asked.

"Mmm," Hermione admitted. "It's been a long day."

"For you and me both," he muttered. "You didn't… uh… come here with Mum and Dad, did you?"

"No," Hermione said. "Are they not here? Are Ginny and Ron here?"

Charlie shook his head, lifting off her enough to peer into her face.

"Nah, they're all still at the Burrow until they move Harry from his place with the Muggles next month," Charlie told her. "The only ones here are me, Remus, and Tonks, at present."

Hermione nodded slowly.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. "I thought you were supposed to be recruiting for the Order over in Romania on your days off?"

Charlie shrugged. "They just opened a new Sanctuary here on British soil," he said. "Needed some able bodies to run it. I was transferred home. I think Percy pulled some strings, actually, hoping he'd get me on his side in this bloody mess. Haven't heard from him yet, but I'm expecting it any day, now. What are you doing here, Hermione? I thought you spent the first half of most summers with your family."

"I do… I did," she sighed, frowning in surprise that Charlie even knew that. "I um… I sent them off to live in France and modified their memories so they wouldn't recall having me…. To protect them, in case the Death Eaters go after them because of my friendship with Harry. I um… I only just got back tonight."

"You…" he pulled back a little, his eyes widening as he stared at her, clearly noting the way her eyes were red-rimmed, stinging with the tears she had to fight back as she admitted what she'd done. "Bloody hell, love."

Hermione whimpered when he leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers, peering into her eyes sadly.

"You did the right thing," he whispered. "They'd have been made targets in a heartbeat. It's a wonder they hadn't already been targeted, to be honest."

Hermione nodded, fighting back a sob that threatened to overwhelm her.

"Blimey, Hermione," Charlie said, curling his arms under her body before rolling the two of them until she was sprawled over his chest.

Hermione closed her eyes, letting him hold her, unsure why she felt so comfortable with him when she'd only met him once before in her life, and had barely interacted with him when she had. Yet here she laid, having just shagged him senseless and being offered comfort in the form of kindly crooned reassurances that she'd done the right thing, and that she'd had no choice, and that she wasn't a monster.

"I'm sorry," she whispered when a few tears slipped from beneath her closed eyelids.

He held her tightly.

"Don't apologize, beautiful. You've got more cause than most to be sad. Even if I did just shag you silly," he said, teasing her just a little.

"Very kind of you," she chuckled.

"It was, wasn't it?" he grinned when she lifted her head to look at him, propping her chin against his chest. "You uh… you're of age, though, right? Tell me you're at least seventeen?"

Hermione chuckled.

"I'll be eighteen in September," she admitted, grateful for the distraction.

"Right. Good. Shit. I'm too bloody old for you," he said, his ears reddening just a little.

"You're what? Twenty-four?" she guessed.

"Twenty-five in October," he admitted.

"Please, you're not even old. Remus and Tonks have more years separating them," Hermione said, rolling her eyes at him.

"You're still in school, though, right?" he confirmed. "Same year as Ron, yeah?"

Hermione nodded.

"Ah, shite," Charlie sighed. "I'm going to hell. Mum will bloody murder me if she finds out about this."

"Who said she had to find out?" Hermione rolled her eyes. "I mean, she's not here right now, is she?"

Charlie smirked.

"How long are you staying?" he asked.

"Here, in this bed with you? Or here at Headquarters?" she asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Headquarters," he said.

"The rest of the summer, I suppose. I'm sure I'd be welcome at the Burrow but I… I don't want to face them so soon after what I've done," Hermione admitted.

"You're going back to Hogwarts in the Autumn?" he confirmed.

Hermione shrugged. "If Harry does. I doubt it," she admitted.

Charlie frowned at her.

"So, you're here for the rest of the summer, at least?" he confirmed.

"Mmhmm," Hermione nodded, her eyelids growing heavy with her exhaustion. "And you're in my room."

"This is  _my_  room, witch," he argued.

"It's mine. I've claimed it. It even has my stuff in it."

"Yeah, in a trunk, by the door," he rolled his eyes.

Hermione waved her hand at the trunk, practicing wandless magic to pop the locks on the trunk and watching as all her things levitated themselves around the room, her books slotting onto the narrow bookshelf by the window, her stationary arranging itself on the desk, and her clothes hanging themselves neatly in the cupboard and folding themselves into the drawers. Her photo frames arranged themselves around the room, settling on the mantle and the beside table, a large one of her, Harry, Ron and Ginny that had been taken at the World Cup even hanging itself on the wall across the room.

"Now it's unpacked," she said. "More so than any of your things, Weasley."

"You think so, Granger?" he taunted, raising one eyebrow before pointing out the collection of dragon pictures hanging from the walls, the picture of a busty brunette scantily clad and riding a dragon that had affixed itself to the ceiling, the pile of clothes in the hamper, and the collection of knick-knacks he'd arranged throughout the room.

"Well," Hermione frowned, noting with slight alarm how easily their belongings all fit together despite the small size of the room. "I have more stuff."

"I was here first."

"This time," she muttered. "I was using this room last summer."

"You were not," he rolled his eyes. "You shared with Ginny. Mum told me whilst directing me to this room since it was one of the only ones that hadn't been claimed by anyone who revolves through this place."

"Okay, so it wasn't mine, but it is now," she said.

"I'm not leaving,  _koroleva_ ," he warned, a stubborn gleam in his eyes.

"Neither am I," Hermione argued. "I can't share with Ginny again. My schedule drives her mad. She gets huffy when I keep her awake with my light on to read until the wee small hours. And she snores, which drives me batty. And I'd probably keep her awake when I end up crying myself to sleep in grief at losing my parents. I can't go back to sharing with her."

Charlie watched her, slowly shaking his head from side to side even as he slowly smoothed his hands up and down the length of her back in a way that was lulling her toward sleep.

"When you say the wee small hours," he said. "How wee are we talking?"

"I've been known to read until three or four in the morning, if the book is engaging enough," she admitted.

"Do you sleep in, as a result?" he asked curiously.

"Often, during the summer," Hermione admitted. "Another reason that sharing with Ginny is torture. She's always up at the crack of dawn and never fails to attempt to drag me out of bed to play with her."

Charlie snorted.

"Do  _you_  snore?" he confirmed, tipping his head to one side as he regarded her.

"I don't think so," she said. "Ginny's never said so, and my dorm-mates at Hogwarts haven't complained."

He stared at her for so long after that that Hermione almost looked away, embarrassed.

"I take it you're not currently seeing anyone?" he asked after an unbearable silence.

"I… do you think I'd have shagged you if I were?" Hermione asked, frowning at him.

"No, but you never know. You've had a pretty bad day."

"Not bad enough that I would cheat on someone, even if I did stumble on you in here, naked."

"It's my room, I can be naked if I want," he said. "And anyway,  _you_  said I was breathtaking _."_

"I may have taken a blow to the head during my portkey home," Hermione needled.

"You may be going the right way for a smack on the arse, Granger," he informed her. "So, you're not seeing anyone, you don't have anyone to answer to, you  _are_  of age, and you  _do_  find me irresistible."

"I wouldn't go  _that_  far," Hermione scoffed, though it ended on a squeak when he swatted her on the rump just sharp enough to sting.

"Don't interrupt," he chided, though he looked wickedly amused. "The point is, I'm not leaving and you're refusing to install yourself somewhere else in the house, and neither of us have anyone to bark at us… so, logically, we  _could_ potentially share this room until the end of the summer when you figure out what you're doing, or until I get my arse into gear and get myself a flat somewhere."

"What are you saying?" Hermione frowned, lifting her head from his chest to peer into his face seriously. "You want to… what? Share the bed? Or are you suggesting something else?"

"I could be persuaded to share the room," he fixed her a wild-eyed look that made her pussy clench needily, making her realise that despite their change of position, he was still inside of her. "Of course, that would be on the condition I laid down when you came in here."

"I can stay as long as I'm naked?" she guessed.

He winked at her and Hermione felt her cheeks warm at the very idea.

"Are you suggesting we… um…" she trailed off, unsure how to voice what she thought he was asking, not daring in case she was reading too much into it.

"Look, Hermione, this house is big and pretty empty most of the time, what with Remus and Tonks coming and going at all hours for work and Order business. I've been out of the country a long time, don't have a whole lot of friends in this neck of the woods and sure as hell don't have a girlfriend.  _If_  you wanted to spend the summer shacked up in their dingy little room, shagging when it's convenient, and generally offering company that doesn't grate on your nerves, I could be amenable to that."

"You want us to be… lovers?" she asked.

Charlie shrugged. "If it suits you. If not, it might be awkward sharing the bed, 'cause I ain't leaving."

"Are you actually bargaining sex for my being allowed to call this room mine?" Hermione asked, laughing just a little.

"How bad do you want to sleep in here, love?" he smirked.

Hermione traced her eyes over his handsome face before leaning back to trace her eyes over his muscular torso where he laid against her. She'd be lying if she said she didn't want him, and she could certainly think of far worse people to have an arrangement for casual sex with. It would hardly be the first time she'd had a fuck-buddy, either. She and Theo had indulged just that sort of arrangement all of last year, in fact, and she was no stranger to keeping sex and emotions separate.

But Charlie Weasley was no Theodore Nott. For one he was older, handsomer, and far more important to the other people in her life. For another, he lived here at Grimmauld Place and eventually Harry, Ron, Ginny, and the rest of the Weasley clan would likely all move back in here for the remainder of the summer.

"How, exactly, would we explain sharing a room and a bed to your mother if we share it all summer?" Hermione raised one eyebrow.

Charlie's grin faltered, and his ears turned red again.

"Shite," he muttered, clearly knowing as well as she did that Molly would probably have a cow if she found out they'd ever been in the same room as one another whilst clothed and being entirely appropriate with one another.

"Exactly," Hermione said. "And she'll already be on the lookout for untoward behavior because Harry and Ginny are finally dating, so she'll be squinting at everyone to make sure there's no funny business going on under her nose."

"If she's looking at them, she's unlikely to be looking at us," Charlie reasoned. "As far as Mum knows, you and I have only met that one time at the Triwizard Tournament."

Hermione stared at him drolly.

"Until tonight, that was true," she reminded him.

"Right," he agreed, frowning a little. "Point is, with me coming and going at all hours for work, she won't figure out we're sharing a room unless she comes looking. And I'm a grown man. She doesn't look in on me."

"Yeah, right," Hermione muttered. "She'd be in here fussing with the bed, changing the sheets, and collecting the clothes from the hamper every other day. You know how she gets with a whole houseful of people to worry over. Especially with everything else so tense. She'll go on a rampage, cleaning everything. And I hardly think Ginny will be oblivious to the fact that I'm not sharing her room. She, Harry and Ron will want to know which room I picked."

"They don't know I'm using this one," he pointed out. "It'll be fine. And if not and they figure it out… well… we're both adults capable of making our own decisions, and she's my mother, not yours, so she can't tell you what to do, and I'm a grown man. She can't tell me what to do either."

"She wouldn't try to tell us what to do," Hermione huffed, turning in his arms and disengaging their bodies, holding her hand out and summoning her wand as she rolled to her back to lay beside him. "She'd just cluck her tongue a whole lot, and make pointed comments about propriety and  _"don't you think it's much nicer to be in a relationship than a casual sexual arrangement, Tonks?"_ and  _"what a wonderful husband you are, Arthur, wouldn't it be lovely if all of our children were heading toward a marriage like ours?"_ and " _why yes, Remus, I do think it's just delightful you've asked Tonks to marry you. Everyone sets out in a relationship with marriage in mind_." And when that doesn't work it'll be, " _Oh, Charlie, there's a lovely girl working at Gringotts with Bill. Why don't you introduce yourself?_  And " _Hermione, dear, wasn't there some boy you mentioned at Hogwarts last year? What was his name again? Are you two still an item?"_  and if that doesn't work, she'll get crafty and start inviting people around for dinner in the hopes of forcing the two of us to make some kind of commitment beyond shared living space and casual sex, or will attempt to make us jealous with the inclusion of others more  _suited_  to our personalities. Of course, that doesn't even take into account how Ron will splutter and angrily hiss about breaking things off with Lavender because when he was dreaming he said my name instead of hers and the bloody git thinks, even after trying all of last year to make me jealous by dating that bint, that I might still bloody fancy him, and he'll have a thing or two to shout about, beginning with the age difference, personality difference, and a laundry list of those people we've both dated in the past, because he's a petty little sod when he gets his wand in a knot."

Charlie laughed, turning his head to look at her.

"You're putting  _way_  too much thought into this, Hermione," he informed her. "It's none of their business what we do, but if it's easier, and you don't mind, and if they ask, we could say we're an item. It'll get Mum off my back for a while about girls, anyway. She was hinting the other day that maybe I was bent, and that if so, I could tell her because she wouldn't think of me any differently."

"You're not, are you?" Hermione turned her head, raising her eyebrows.

"You ever had a bent bloke shag you the way I just shagged you?" he asked.

"Well, no," Hermione admitted. "But I'm hardly all that experienced with men."

"Yeah?" he asked, suddenly paling so sharply that his freckles stood out. "Blimey, you weren't a virgin, were you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Don't be ridiculous," she said. "You weren't my first."

"Thank Merlin for that," he muttered. "Else you'd probably be in pain, right now. I got a bit rough."

Hermione grinned, tipping her head to look at him.

"I certainly wasn't complaining," she said quietly, her cheeks turning pink when he fixed her a smoldering look that kind of made her want to shag him all over again.

"No," he agreed. "You were just begging, oh so sweetly, for more."

Hermione swatted him lightly and he laughed. She traced her fingers over a burn she found on his chest, unsure what else to say, unused to sticking around for long once the orgasms had been traded and the mess cleaned up.

"So…." Charlie said after several long minutes of surprisingly comfortable silence.

"So?" Hermione asked, tipping her head to meet his gaze, blinking at him sleepily.

He looked quite serious as he peered back at her, raising one eyebrow as he asked, "You want to go again?"

Hermione didn't even have to think about it as she reached for his lips and stole another dizzying kiss.


	2. Chapter Two

Hermione groaned when she woke the next morning, her body aching sweetly from the delicious activities she'd put it through the night before. She blinked her eyes open slowly, squinted at her alarm clock on the bedside table and was surprised to note that it was almost midday. The room was still gloriously dark and when she shifted her weight slightly, Hermione found that she was snugly held in the powerful arms of a Dragon Tamer.

Hermione smiled softly, trailing her eyes around the room and taking in the amusing intermingling of their belongings thanks to the way she'd unpacked last night. Charlie had yet to stir, and Hermione stretched languorously, grinding her arse on his half-hard cock and moaning softly at the delicious pull of aching muscles.

Charlie groaned quietly behind her, his arm tightening around her and pressing her back against him firmly. Smirking to herself and rolling her hips, Hermione felt his cock stir to life against her backside while he slowly came awake and she took great delight in canting her hips a little, aligning their bodies before pushing backward and impaling herself on his glorious cock. It stung a bit, her body a little out of practice with such rigorous shagging, but she ignored the slight sting, rocking herself on his cock.

Charlie came awake with a sharply indrawn breath and he groaned into her hair, bucking his hips.

"Blimey," he muttered into her neck when Hermione rolled her hips again, pushing back against him insistently.

Hermione laughed softly at his exclamation, and grinned when Charlie rolled the two of them until she was stretched on her stomach under him. He propped himself up on his elbows and Hermione hiked her arse up just a little, letting him slide in deeper.

"Mmmmm," she hummed with delight as he picked up the pace, still half-asleep even as he nosed her hair out of the way and trailed a line of kisses, licks, and little nips across the top of her shoulders.

Sensitive after last night, Hermione's body thrummed with pleasure, the tension coiling within her already.

"Bloody hell, you know how to wake a man up right, Hermione," Charlie muttered into her ear before nibbling her earlobe and Hermione moaned softly when he picked up the pace, shagging her a little harder.

The orgasm snuck up on her unexpectedly, and Hermione arched under Charlie as it hit, turning her head and biting his forearm.

"Thank bloody Merlin," she heard his huff as she orgasmed. "I didn't think I was going to last."

Hermione laughed breathlessly even as he increased his pace a bit more, driving into her a little harder before he bit down on her shoulder just hard enough to sting, burying himself inside of her as he came. He groaned softly as he relaxed on top of her, nosing her hair to one side and pressing a tender kiss to her cheek.

"Good morning," he murmured, grinning at her.

"Morning," Hermione smiled sleepily.

"Mmm, what time is it?" Charlie asked, looking around before rolling off her, reaching for the far bedside table to pick up his watch.

"Five off midday," Hermione informed him.

"What?" Charlie yelped, suddenly sitting bolt upright in the bed beside her. "Fuck! I'm so late!"

Hermione rolled over, watching him jump out of bed.

"Shit, I need to shower," he was muttering even as he scooped up some of his clothing from random piles on the floor. "And fuck, I think I pulled a muscle in my arse shagging you, woman!"

Hermione began to laugh, watching him trying to pull his pants on despite claims of needing the shower.

"If I get roasted at work because I reek of you, make sure someone looks after Sprocket, yeah?"

"Who is Sprocket?" Hermione asked, frowning at him.

Charlie paused, looking at her through the sleeve hole on his shirt when he struggled to find the head-hole. He pointed toward something to her left, on his side of the bed, and she almost leapt out of her skin when she laid eyes on an enormous and vicious looking dog sitting beside the bed, his front paws and his chin up on the edge of the mattress, big puppy-dog eyes watching her adoringly.

"Merlin's beard, he's bigger than Fang!" Hermione squeaked. "Has he been in here all night?"

"Nah," Charlie said. "Crept in around dawn wanting to snuggle, the big lout."

"Right. Um… I hope he didn't eat Crookshanks."

"Crookshanks?" Charlie asked, frowning at her.

The cat in question made himself known by yowling from the very top of the bookshelf across the room. Charlie spun in that direction with wicked reflexes, his wand trained on the cat in a heartbeat before he figured out it was a cat and not a dragon intent on cooking him.

"You have a cat?" Charlie raised his eyebrow.

"You have a dog?" Hermione countered.

"He's a Dragon-Hound," Charlie nodded. "Helps me out at work, don't you, Sprocket? Pretty much fire-resistant, these guys. He's saved my arse more than once when he jumped on me and fended off fiery blasts when the lizards get stroppy with me."

"Right," Hermione said. "You're taking him with you to work, then?" she confirmed.

"Yeah. Look, I've got to run, Hermione. I'm already so late. Frankie's going to take it out of my hide. You'll be here when I get home, right?"

"What time will you be back?" Hermione asked.

"Probably not until midnight, maybe a bit after," Charlie said.

"I'll be here," Hermione smiled. "I'll leave something in the kitchen for you, if I'm not still awake."

Charlie grinned.

"Liking you more and more, Granger," he said as he strode for the door. "Sprocket, come on buddy. I know she's pretty and you want to stare at her all day, but we've got to go, dog. I'll see you tonight, Hermione."

Hermione waved him off, squeaking when Sprocket jumped up on the bed and bounded right over the top of her before he followed Charlie out the door. She listened to the sounds of the pair of them bounding down the stairs, upsetting all the portraits, including the one of Sirius's mother. She began screeching about mudlood filth and blood traitors, but cut off abruptly when the front door opened and closed behind Charlie as he left for work.

Raising one eyebrow and wondering if the portrait only bothered to scream when she thought there was someone around to hear her, Hermione rolled over and looked at Crookshanks where he was still perched on top of the bookshelf.

"Well, what are we going to do today, Crooks?" she asked of the cat, even knowing that she had a stack of homework that she could do, having put it all off while she'd spent the last few weeks with her parents, trying to etch everything about them into her memory.

She needed to keep busy, she knew. If she didn't, she was going to break down and cry her heart out, which would be unproductive. Sighing and contemplating going back to sleep for an hour, Hermione rolled to the side, sat up in the bed and winced when three shags worth of stickiness made itself known between her legs.

"Gross," she muttered, reaching for her wand and vanishing the mess before getting to her feet and thinking a shower might be in order. She scooped up yesterday's dress from the crumpled pile she'd left it in on the floor, pulling it on over her head. Yesterday's knickers were tossed into the dirty clothes hamper in the corner and Hermione collected fresh underwear from one of the drawers where her things had unpacked themselves.

Crookshanks jumped down and meowed as he followed her down the stairs to the shower.

"Let me wash first, Crooks," Hermione laughed at the cat. "I smell terrible."

She was quick about it, though she did take the time to shampoo and deep condition her hair with some of the newest products on the wizarding market, smiling to herself when she got out and found that her usually frizzy hair was hanging in sleek ringlets.

"Alright, let's get you fed, and then I need to wash those sheets, and oh my Merlin, this is disgusting!" Hermione announced when she strolled into the kitchen and almost recoiled in horror.

She recognized the mess immediately as the result of one, Nymphadora Tonks, attempting to cook an edible meal. The whole kitchen was in a mess, every pot, every pan and every flat surface covered in food scraps and other leavings.

Flicking her wand, Hermione used magic to begin tidying the place while she fed Crookshanks, setting up his food dish in the corner of the kitchen beside the bowl that must belong to Sprocket.

She puttered about the house until midafternoon, locating and cleaning various messes, doing several loads of washing, and even chasing after a family of Puffeskins that had made a nest for themselves in the laundry. She captured all of them, knowing she'd be able to sell them to the man at Eeylops Owl Emporium for a few Galleons each.

When things were in order at the house, Hermione took stock of everything they had on hand ranging from food and cooking staples, to the levels of potion ingredients, the amount of whiskey and wine, and even the state of the first-aid kit. She would need to do a big shop, she decided, pleased that before he'd died, Sirius had somehow withdrawn all of the money from all of the various Black family vaults and had squirrelled it all away in the basement of Headquarters. Not many knew that, of course. In fact, the only ones who did were Remus, Harry, and Hermione. He'd wanted to make sure all of them would have access to money in a hurry if they ever needed it, and she didn't feel guilty dipping into the supply to stock up on everything they needed to keep Headquarters running. Knowing that all too soon the house would fill again for the next Order meeting in the lead up to collecting Harry from Surrey, Hermione made sure to plan for having a full house.

While she was at it, on her way out the door, Hermione found herself eyeing the peeling and flaked wallpaper with distaste, thinking to herself that one of the best ways to keep herself busy over the summer would be to begin properly tidying this old house up and making it fit for human habitation, once again. Yes, she would pick up some tools to remove the old shoddy stuff, in addition to collecting some new paper for the walls.

She knew it would be dangerous to go to Diagon Alley alone, and that the other Order members would scold her if they saw, so Hermione made sure to take some precautions. She charmed her dark hair to be pure white, making a face at herself in the mirror and thinking that she looked rather like a Malfoy family reject. She used far more make-up on her face that she ordinarily would, lathering on concealer before doling up her eyes in the way Ginny had taught her, winging her eyes and shading her lids, before coating her lips in crimson lipstick.

"Merlin, I look like a cheap hooker," Hermione muttered, shaking her head at herself. "But at least I don't look like me, right Crooks?"

The cat yowled and streaked out of the room, clearly horrified and Hermione laughed. Hurrying out the door, she Disapparated to the Alley with a sharp crack, losing herself in the quiet street with ease. It might be the height of the war, but it seemed nothing would ever cease consumerism, and Hermione was soon just a face among the crowd as she purchased everything she needed.

The man at the apothecary eyed her suspiciously when she bought the many ingredients needed for healing potions, Polyjuice potion, burn salve and all manner of other ingredients to make the more expensive healing potions from scratch.

She couldn't resist stopping at the bookshop before she left, after trading her captured Puffeskins for Kneazel treats and Dragon-Hound food, and she took her time perusing the shelves. She bought several books, using her own money for those, before stopping at a renovations shop on her way out of the alley and discovering there was a new dissolvent on the market that would remove stubborn old paintings and posters from walls. Hermione bought a big pot of it, along with enough wallpaper to do the entire common areas of Grimmauld place in addition to the bedroom she was sharing with Charlie. She bought enough for the other rooms too, but she might hold off on fixing some of them up until she had permission from Harry and Remus. She imagined Harry might take issue with her re-decorating Sirius's room, for instance.

When she had everything she needed and was laden with bags, Hermione left Diagon Alley, thankful no one had recognized her. Returning to the house, the first thing she did after putting down all of her shopping was to dig out the pot of dissolvent and dribble some of it along the top of Mrs Black's portrait, excited to be able to get rid of the horrible thing once and for all.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

"Weasley, where the fuck have you been?" Frankie roared when Charlie arrived at work, late and still trying to stomp his feet into his boots properly.

"Sorry, boss," Charlie apologized. "Overslept."

Frankie narrowed his eyes on him and Charlie held perfectly still, watching the lycan circle him, sniffing loudly.

"Too busy fucking a pretty girl, by the smell of you," the werewolf growled.

"Lost track of time. Long night, you know? Charlie said.

"Well, who the fuck is she, eh?" the man asked, and Charlie shook his head, smirking a little, knowing that his boss wasn't really angry with him, he was just abrupt and blunt by nature.

"Pretty little thing I'm keeping to myself, mate," Charlie smirked.

"Anyone I know?" Frankie asked. "Smells hot."

Charlie laughed.

"You don't know her," he shook his head. "How're my lizards?"

"Hungry," Frankie told him. "Restless. There's a scent on the breeze that stirring up all the magical creatures, my friend."

Charlie drew in a deep breath through his nose, picking up the scent of dragons, fire, soot, earth, impending rain, and something else that made his nose tingle.

"Don't know what it is," Frankie went on, watching him as he moved in the direction of the hills where his dragons were nesting. "But I don't like it, kid. Not a bit."

"Makes my nose tingle," Charlie nodded, frowning.

"Mmmm," Frankie nodded. "Tingles and burns a little in mine. Reckon something's not right, Charlie. Not right at all."

Charlie frowned, not liking the sound of that.

"The Death Eaters?" he asked in a low voice.

"No," Frankie shook his head. "This is the scent of earth magic. No wizard is causing this."

"Greyback?" Charlie guessed again.

"Don't think so," Frankie shook his head. "Doesn't smell like wolf-magic, either. This feels like…. Olde magic. Earth magic. The type that birthed the Standing Stones and gave way to creatures that roam our land…. Feels like something ancient is waking up, and bringing all manner of strange new things with it. You be careful out there, Charlie boy. The dragons are ornery, and the times are dangerous."

With that, Frankie walked away, following his nose to something away in the forest, leaving Charlie with goosebumps running over his arms despite the warmth of the summer day. He shook himself before looking down at Sprocket, noticing that even the dog seemed on edge. His ears forward and his nose twitching, his tail poised and raised like he'd smelled something worth hunting and was just waiting for it to break cover and begin to run.

Shaking his head, Charlie set off in the direction of his dragons, thinking that it was high time he got them fed and hoping that whatever was upsetting them all would pass without incident. The last thing they needed was any more trouble on top of the war. He was still thinking about it all, trying to puzzle it out, when a loud roar emitted from behind him before a heavy dragon claw swept him off his feet and Charlie Weasley rolled in the beast's tight grip, his stomach twisting nervously when he caught sight of one of his favourite dragons looking intent on eating him.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hermione?" Remus Lupin faltered to a stop when he trudged into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place to find the young, curly-haired witch standing at the stove and cooking something that smelled good enough to make his stomach cramp with hunger.

"Remus?" Hermione asked, setting down her spoon and turning toward the werewolf with a wide smile. "Oh, you're home. It's so good to see you!"

She hurried over to him, not even pausing to think that he might not appreciate a hug before she curled her arms around his lithe torso and burrowed into his chest in greeting. He made a small sound of surprise before curling his arms around her in return and pressing her into a tight hug, dropping an affectionate kiss to the top of her head.

"When did you get here?" he asked, frowning at her in confusion when he pulled back from her, noticing that the kitchen had been cleaned and re-stocked and even looked rather like it had been re-papered.

"Last night," she said. "I thought you'd have heard me arriving, actually."

Remus wondered why that fact made the witch blush, but he didn't ask.

"I wasn't here last night," he shook his head. "Had watch duty to keep an eye on Harry."

"Oh," Hermione said, nodding. "How is he?"

"Reckless," Remus chuckled. "It's so hard to see him without going over and talking to him, but soon we'll be able to bring him here and I won't have to watch him from across the street like a creep."

"I'm sure you've never been a creep, Remus," Hermione assured him, smiling at him kindly and Remus marveled at her ability to care not a lick about his lyncanthropy.

"You're too kind, Hermione," he smiled sheepishly. "What are you cooking? It smells amazing."

Hermione laughed.

"Oh, it's nothing special," she said. "One of my Mum's recipes for beef brisket. Would you like some? It's almost ready."

"I'd love some," Remus admitted, his stomach growling. "Is Tonks here?"

"I haven't seen her," Hermione said.

"What about Charlie?" Remus asked, shrugging out of his cloak and hanging it on the coat rack he noticed had been newly installed in the kitchen by the entrance. "And did you re-paper this place?"

Hermione smiled.

"I did," she nodded. "I hope that's ok. I know it's technically Harry house… after Sirius… but it was just falling to bits and in need of some TLC and well, I'll be here for the whole summer and I thought it would be a good way to spend the time, you know. I want to keep busy, and getting this place looking nice again is going to be hard enough that I'm sure I'll be run off my feet with it."

Remus smiled, listening to the way the younger witch chattered while she served him up a plate, not having commented about Charlie being there, and making him wonder if she was nervous being alone with him. He shook his head, dismissing the notion when she brought him a big plate of beef brisket and mashed potatoes before fetching him a cup of tea and pushing him into one of the dining chairs, insisting that he eat. She didn't shudder as she touched him, and she surprised him with a ruffle of his hair and a kiss pressed to the top of his head when she brought him over a cup of tea, made just the way he liked.

No, he decided. She wasn't nervous to be alone in his presence. She was chattering because she had something else on her mind and she was trying desperately to distract herself from it.

"Well, it looks nice, what you've done in here. And you got the mess all cleaned up. Sorry about that. Tonks is a menace in the kitchen, I swear. I spend half my time when I'm home picking up after that woman," Remus chuckled, shaking his head and thinking fondly of his wife.

"Thanks," Hermione said. "It took a while to peel back all the flakes of the old paper, but I bought some books on renovation while I was in Diagon Alley today, and they helped. How is Tonks? You said she should be here by now, right?"

Right at that moment there was a ruckus from the hallway as Nymphadora Tonks tripped over the troll's foot umbrella stand that Hermione made a mental note to throw out tomorrow.

"Tonks? That you?" Hermione called.

"Hermione?" Tonks called back, sounding excited.

Remus laughed, listening to his wife's hurried footsteps before she exploded into the kitchen with a huge grin on her face.

"It  _is_  you!" Tonks cried, dashing across the kitchen and throwing herself at Hermione. "Oh, it's so good to see you! When did you get here? What is that glorious smell? Merlin, its bloody amazing. Remus, love! How are you?"

Remus shook his head as his wife smothered the younger witch in affection before spotting him at the table and hurrying over to steal a kiss from his lips.

"It's so good to see you, Tonks," Hermione said, smiling fondly at the other witch.

Remus smirked when his wife's hair turned bubblegum pink with love, knowing that much like he did, she held a special affection for the bright muggleborn witch who associated with Harry.

"I've missed you so much!" Tonks said, grinning as she stripped out of her cloak and her hat, hanging them next to his on the new coat rack by the door. "How have you been? How are your folks? Have you had a good summer, so far?"

Hermione's smiled faltered a little at the questions, and Remus watched her eyes fill with tears. Concerned, he put a hand on Dora's arm.

"Hermione? What is it?" he asked gently.

"I… um… well, the reason I'm here so early is… I…" she sobbed softly, squeezing her eyes closed and Remus's stomach turned over with fear. "I modified Mum and Dad's memories. I didn't want them to be targeted because of my being a witch and being friends with Harry. I made them forget ever having had me and sent them off to start their new lives abroad."

"Oh, no," Tonks whispered. "Oh, Hermione you poor, brave thing."

Tonks wrapped the younger witch into her arms immediately and Remus knew his wife thought of the other witch like the little sister she'd never had, having grown very fond of her over the years since she'd joined the Order. Remus, on the other hand, tended to think of Hermione like the daughter he'd never had, her similarity in appearance to himself and her bookishness, not to mention her friendship with Harry lending themselves to the fantasy and without thinking he wrapped his arms around his wife and around Hermione, holding them both.

"You did the right thing, Hermione," Remus said. "We'd heard a few whispers about the Death Eaters thinking of targeting you. The twins got word just last week that Dolohov has it out for you after you survived his curse at the Department of Mysteries, and Moody mentioned having caught some lesser Death Eater prospects who'd squealed on a plot to target your family. We'd added your house to our rota of place to protect, but when we went by, you and your parents were nowhere to be found and the house was empty."

Hermione nodded, breathing thickly against her tears. "I moved us all abroad and made them forget everything they know about magic, and forget ever having me."

"Oh, love," Tonks said, her hair turning blue with her grief on the younger witch's behalf.

Hermione cried a little longer, and Remus shared a long look with his wife, worried for the girl. Tonks returned the look, just as worried, and he knew they would both be treating her like their family even more than they already did.

"No wonder you want to keep busy," Remus said quietly when Hermione tried to pull herself together and wriggled out of their arms.

Hermione nodded, wiping her eyes on the hem of her shirt and revealing her midriff for a brief moment. Remus frowned when he noted how skinny she was, as though she hadn't been eating very well.

"We'll be your family, Hermione," Tonks whispered to the younger witch. "I already think of you as a sister."

Hermione cried a little more, though she smiled gratefully.

"Thank you," she whispered to them. "It means a lot to me. I'd be very honoured to call the two of you family."

Remus smiled a little, feeling a warm flush of acceptance, and he looped his arms around Tonks, pulling her back against him and dropping a kiss to her cheek to hide his urge to hug the emotional young witch all over again. Tonks squeezed him tightly, making him grin all the more.

"But you must be hungry, Tonks?" Hermione said, squaring her shoulders when she'd dried her eyes. "Let me get you some dinner. Sit. Sit. You'll have had a long day at work, I imagine?"

"The longest," Tonks sighed, dropping into the chair beside Remus's and toeing her shoes off.

Remus twitched his nose at the smell of her feet before subtly pointing his wand at the shoes and her socks to get rid of the smell and to banish the shoes to the shoe-rack by the front door, lest she put him off his dinner.

"The Ministry's in a shambles, as you can imagine," Tonks went on, gratefully accepting the plate of food and the cup of tea Hermione brought to her before the young witch joined them both at the table. "I spent most of the day patrolling Diagon Alley and the Ministry office. We're expecting attacks from everyone, these days, and fights keep breaking out between different factions of the Ministry. I'm sure the Ministry will fall to You-Know-Who's reign soon. Before the end of the summer, I'd wager."

Right at that moment, as Hermione was opening her mouth to ask more questions, the front door of the house opened up and Remus's nosed twitched at the scent of burned flesh, singed hair, and dragon.

"Charlie?" Remus frowned, looking over his shoulder before getting to his feet when the faint scent of blood hit his nose, too.

"Charlie? Tonks repeated. "What are you doing home, you sod…. Oh, bloody hell! What happened to you?"

Remus caught the Dragon Tamer when he stumbled into the kitchen far earlier in the evening than he usually made it home. He looked shell-shocked and a little worse for wear. Sprocket was at his side, Charlie's hand gripping the dog's ruff tightly to guide him into the kitchen.

"Oh, goodness," Hermione said, sounding exasperated. "What've you done to yourself, Weasley? Burns? Cuts? Merlin, is that blood? Did you get bitten?"

She was already on her feet, and digging a much better stocked first aid kit from the top cabinet as Remus and Tonks helped Charlie into a chair.

"Ashtari got a bit stroppy with me," Charlie grunted when he'd been helped into a chair, wincing as he sat.

"A bit?" Tonks scoffed. "You look like you've gone five rounds with the beast. What happened? I thought Ashtari was one of your favourites?"

"She is," Charlie said, flinching when Hermione invaded his space heedless of their limited acquaintance before she began dabbing at a cut through his eyebrow with a disinfectant wipe. "She uh… took issue with my tardiness. Overslept this morning, see? And something in the air's stirred them up. She wasn't the only one ornery with me, today."

"You need to take this off," Hermione was saying to the wizard, setting down her disinfectant cloth and pulling on the hem of Charlies dragon-hide shirt, trying to peel him out of it.

Charlie hissed in pain when she managed it, peeling it up over his head and Remus caught the way the younger witch didn't even flinch at the sight of Charlie's tattoos. She didn't blush to be seeing him half-naked and he narrowed his eyes a little, wondering if she was too intent on healing the wizard to notice, or if she just wasn't surprised by what she found under his clothes.

"Ease up, Granger," Charlie grunted at the witch, surprising Remus that the two of them even knew each other. He didn't think they'd ever been formally introduced. "I'm a bit banged up, not bloody dying."

"You have a nasty burn on your side," Hermione corrected him. "And if I don't heal it, you'll get infected. So, hush up."

She followed the directive by dropping down to perch on Charlie's lap before ducking her head and lifting his right arm to balance it on her shoulder so she could doctor the wound without him getting in her way.

Remus darted at look at Tonks, raising one eyebrow and catching the baffled look on his wife's face, too.

"Bossy," Charlie accused. "Fuck, that hurts!"

Hermione didn't flinch in the face of his pained growl, patching him up as well as she could, not seeming to mind touching the mangled flesh as she smoothed her fingers over Charlie's burn, applying some Burn Salve followed by an anesthetic salve that would numb the area.

"Merlin, move your bony little arse, witch," Charlie grumbled when she shuffled in his lap. "I've got a bite on my thigh, too."

"Oh, for Merlin's sake!" Hermione said, frowning at him and shifting to his other leg only to discover another claw mark on the side of his neck and across his shoulder.

Charlie screwed up his face in pain when she doctored that wound too.

"So much for having a way with the beasts, eh Weasley?" Tonks needled her best friend from Hogwarts, smirking as she tried to take his mind off his aches and pains while Hermione worked on patching him up.

"Yeah, well," Charlie grunted. "It was to be expected. There's something in the air setting the lizards on edge. Sprocket too, for that matter. Frankie reckoned it's some kind of earth magic."

Tonks looked at Remus.

"Frankie's a werewolf, right?" Remus asked, noting the way Hermione shifted off Charlie's lap only to kneel between his legs, her hands going to the fastening on the redhead's pants and unbuttoning them before she urged him to his feet and yanked the pants down his legs to reveal his crimson boxers.

"Yeah," Charlie nodded. "He said it was making his nose tingle and burn a bit."

Remus nodded slowly. "I picked up on something like that on the way home. Couldn't smell it in Surrey, but when I was passing some of the outer suburbs, I caught whiff of something. I didn't think too much of it, at the time."

Charlie nodded. "Stirred up my lizards, anyway," he muttered, before dropping his eyes to Hermione, who was doctoring the bite-wound on his thigh, cleaning the dried blood off his leg and dabbing dittany over each puncture wound where the dragon fangs had sunk into his flesh. "You alright there, Granger?"

Hermione tipped her head up to look at the redhead.

"Do you come home like this every night, Weasley?" she asked, not sounding the slightest bit embarrassed despite the proximity of her face to Charlie's junk.

"Only on the good days," he smirked at her.

She rolled her eyes and Remus's lips twitched with amusement when he caught a whiff of the attraction between the two of them. Shaking his head, he went back to eating his dinner, reserving judgement to find out just what was going on with the two of them and refraining from mentioning that he was pleased Hermione had clearly moved on from her interest in Ron.

"Idiot," he heard Hermione mutter as she returned her attention to healing his thigh before turning him forcibly so she could inspect the rest of him.

Remus chuckled when he heard her sigh as she found a nasty burn and some more claw marks on Charlie's back.

"Fussy little thing, aren't you?" Charlie teased when the witch patched up his back as well before she pushed him down into his seat once more and narrowed her eyes on him, pointing at him threateningly as though to warn him against moving.

Remus grinned, shooting another look at Tonks as Hermione served up another plate of food and made a fresh cup of tea for Charlie before bringing them to him. The Dragon Tamer, for his part, looked wickedly amused as he pulled his pants back up and pulled his shirt back on so that he could attempt decency while they all ate.

They traded small talk about their days, and Remus threw in what little he's seen of Harry.

"I'm ready for a shower and bed," Tonks admitted after they'd all stuffed themselves with food.

"We need to help Hermione clean up," Remus reminded her. "She cooked dinner  _and_  cleaned up the atrocious state you left this kitchen in."

Tonks blushed.

"Hell, I'd forgotten about that. Thanks, Hermione," Tonks smiled.

Hermione waved her off. "Just leave the cooking to me while we're here, yeah? That will be thanks enough."

Remus snorted, trying to hide his laughter, but Charlie made no such attempts, roaring with laughter.

"You really are a rotten cook, Tonks," he told her, shaking his head. "I don't know how you ever passed your Potions NEWT to be an Auror, when you can't boil water without using three pans and somehow burning the bottom out of at least one of them."

"I'm not  _that_  bad," Tonks protested, lobbing a rolled-up copy of the  _Daily Prophet_  at him in protest.

Charlie looked at Remus, hoping for backup.

"Don't look at me, that way lies my being banished to the doghouse," Remus held up his hands, laughing.

"Don't pretend that the doghouse doesn't occasionally appeal to you, Remus," Hermione piped up quietly, flashing him an amused smile and so reminding him of Sirius and his habit of spouting werewolf jokes that Remus barked out a surprised laugh.

"Low blow, Hermione," Charlie laughed, his eyes widening.

"Blimey, Hermione," Remus said, still chortling. "I've missed you, witch."

Hermione smiled, her cheeks pink. It was clear she'd said it without thinking before fearing she might've offended him.

"I've missed you, too," she smiled. "But we're agreed that Tonks does no more of the cooking."

"I'm not that bad!" Tonks protested, laughing.

"Yeah, sure," Hermione rolled her eyes. "Tell that to the collection of saucepans I had to replace when I couldn't get whatever demonic substance was burned to the bottom of them to budge today."

Tonks laughed, blushing.

"Ok, so the kitchen is not my forte. What of it?" Tonks protested.

"I'll do the cooking," Hermione said, flicking her wand at the dishes and setting them to begin putting away the leftovers in the fridge before beginning to self-clean. "Why don't you lot head up and shower. You all look ready for bed."

"We can't leave you to clean up after cooking," Remus protested.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Go shower with your wife, Remus," she instructed. "I'm expecting a little someone I can play godmother to in short order, yeah?"

It was Remus's turn to blush and he looked at Tonks when she snickered, clearly pleased to have backup on the argument that they should have children.

"You want to play godmother to a wolf-pup?" he raised one eyebrow.

"Your children will be perfect little angels, thank you very much," Hermione informed him, putting her hands on her hips. "I know for a fact that they won't be born with tails or fur, so stuff that self-deprecating nonsense up your arse, Remus Lupin."

Tonks began to cackle with glee.

"When did you start talking to me like Sirius has risen from the grave and possessed you, Hermione?" Remus wanted to know, laughing a little too when he saw the stubborn gleam in her eyes.

"When he stopped being here to tell you to pull your head out of your arse and to stop being a ponce," Hermione replied. "All meant with love, obviously."

Remus shook his head.

"Trouble, you are," he informed her.

Hermione offered him a mock bow, as though he'd praised her, reminding him entirely too much of Sirius.

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you were his kid, the way you're acting," he told her.

"Half him and half you, you think?" Hermione smirked, raising one eyebrow and making him blush.

"Oh, she's got you pegged, love," Tonks laughed. "The two of you could be father and daughter, the way you're so similar."

"I'm sure we're not," Remus protested, worried Hermione might be upset by the idea.

"Says who?" Hermione asked. "My mother has very good taste, and I know for a fact that she was a little wild in her late teens and early twenties."

Remus paled at the very suggestion and Hemione laughed.

"Just give this woman we both adore a baby I can fawn over, yeah?" Hermione suggested, smoothing a hand through Tonks's hair and curling around the other witch, grinning at him winningly.

"You're supposed to be on my side, Hermione," Remus protested. "I've already got these two nagging me about a rugrat."

He pointed at Tonks and Charlie.

"She's got a good head on her shoulders, love. She knows which side is in the right in every argument," Tonks said.

"We'll see about that when the three of you are fighting whatever demon spawn I sire," Remus grumbled shaking his head.

Tonks gave a shout of delight, flinging herself across the kitchen and pulling his face down so she could plant an eager kiss on his lips, clearly intent on seducing him into impregnating her that very evening.

Hermione giggled, shaking her head as Remus helplessly resisted his wife's attempts for a few gallant moments before the little vixen bit his lower lip and drew a growl from him, always knowing how to stir up his wolf and make him forget his human worries in favour of his animalistic needs.

Scooping his hands under her arse, Remus hiked his wife up into his arms, feeling her wrap her arms and her legs around him as she kissed him hotly.

"Silencing charms, yeah?" Charlie called after the two of them as Remus carried the metamorphmagus away, intent of ravishing her in the shower.


	4. Chapter 4

When they were gone, Hermione grinned, returning her attention to tidying up the kitchen and almost jumping out of her skin when Charlie came up behind her, curling his arms around her snugly.

"You alright?" he asked, his voice low by her ear.

"I'm fine," Hermione nodded, tipping her head to look at him, finding herself leaning back against his chest and enjoying the way his strapping form dwarfed her own small frame.

"You sure? Your eyes are a bit puffy like you've been crying?" Charlie said, surprising her that he'd noticed.

"I was telling Remus and Tonks about my parents before you arrived home," she said, sighing and closing her eyes, kind of liking the way he let her lean against him, his hands tracing patterns over her stomach.

"They're good people," he nodded. "They care for you a great deal, you know?"

Hermione smiled.

"I'm rather fond of them, too," she admitted. "And you? Are you really alright? Those were some nasty wounds you got today."

"I'm alright now that I've been patched up," he said. "Thanks for that, by the way. Reckon they'll figure out I'm shagging you pretty fast if you go stripping me like that all the time, though."

"Remus is a werewolf," she reminded him. "If he doesn't hear us sharing that little room, he'll certainly smell it on both of us in the morning."

"Still maintaining that you want to share with me, then?" he asked, and Hermione could hear the amusement in his voice.

"Got a problem with that, Weasley?"

"Not if you'll be naked," he told her, lowering his mouth to her neck and kissing her skin.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that'll be nice when your mother turns up and bursts into the room wanting to do your laundry and finds the two of us in the nuddy."

"She's not even staying here, at present," Charlie said. "Gods, you smell good."

Hermione closed her eyes, tipping her head and letting him kiss the side of her neck and the top of her shoulder.

"I shouldn't,' she muttered. "I spent most of the day cleaning and re-papering the walls in here."

Charlie paused, lifting his head to glance around the kitchen.

"Looks nice," he said, grinning a little. "Turning out to be a little renovation guru too, eh Granger?"

"I like to get things right," she said.

"You didn't go to Diagon Alley by yourself, did you?" he asked, frowning and turning her a little in his arms to meet her gaze.

"I didn't have anyone here to accompany me," she shrugged. "And we needed supplies. The cupboards were bare."

"Blimey, witch," he exclaimed. "You trying to get yourself kidnapped or killed?"

"I was fine, Charlie," she smiled. "Though you're sweet to worry about me."

Charlie grunted, narrowing his eyes on her a little as she pulled away intent on continuing to clean up. Hermione glanced at him when he started helping her before pouring them both a glass of firewhiskey.

"You haven't showered, then?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at her.

"Not yet," Hermione shook her head.

"Want to save water and share?" he offered.

"I'm fairly certain Remus and Tonks are sharing it right now," she pointed out.

"We could use the other one," he offered, grinning.

"What other one?" Hermione asked, frowning. "I thought the whole place only had one bathroom. I know there's a spare loo in the laundry, and another one in the basement, but I thought there was only one tub and shower."

"There's an en-suite in the master bedroom," Charlie shrugged his shoulders.

Hermione bit her lip, trailing her eyes over him and feeling the way her core pulsed with need. Merlin, the man made her imagine extremely inappropriate things. The look he gave her in return almost set her knickers on fire and Hermione whimpered just a little, wondering if she would ever be able to handle the wild-eyed Dragon Tamer with all of his intensity.

"You were nearly eaten today," she reminded him.

Charlie shrugged. "You can check over every inch of me for any injuries you might've missed on the first look."

Hermione laughed in spite of herself.

"You're trouble, Charles Weasley," she said, shaking her head at him and accepting his hand when he offered it to her, letting him lead her out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

The distinctive and utter silence coming from the main bathroom told tales of Remus and Tonks's distraction and Hermione giggled as Charlie pulled her up the many stairs and to the master bedroom.

"Who usually sleeps in here?" Hermione asked, knowing that when Sirius had been alive, he'd slept in his childhood bedroom.

"Mum and Dad, I think," Charlie said, reaching for the hem of her shirt and pulling it up and off over her head.

Hermione grinned when he groaned at the sight of her lacy bra and so much pale skin.

"Nearly got eaten today because I reeked of you, you know?" he told her, tunneling a hand into her hair and tipping her head up to receive his kiss when he leaned down.

"Sorry," Hermione apologized.

"No, you're not," Charlie laughed huskily before claiming her lips for a hot kiss, his teeth nibbling her lower lip before his tongue swept into her mouth.

Hermione groaned, melting against him and curling her arms around him. He tasted like the dinner she'd cooked, and like whiskey and smoke. He reeked of dragon and sweat and blood, and she pulled back, wrinkling her nose at him.

"Stink of dragon?" he guessed, grinning, his voice husky.

Hermione nodded, pulling on the hem of his shirt while his arms looped around her, unclasping her bra and pulling it down her arms.

"You're such a pretty little thing,  _koroleva_ ," he murmured, tracing his calloused hands over her body, smoothing them over her shoulders and down to cup her breasts.

Hermione pressed forward into the touch, loving the feel of his hot hands roaming her body.

"You're not too bad yourself," she murmured, managing to rid him of his shirt before going for the fastening on his jeans once more. "Even if you do stink of dragon."

Charlie laughed.

"Come on then," he said. "Under the spray."

"I'm still dressed," Hermione protested before squeaking when he pried her jeans open and shoved them down her legs. He lifted her out of them before flicking her knickers off her hips, scooping her up when she was naked. Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around the back of his neck while he leaned forward a little, wriggling out of his trousers and his boxers.

She could feel his erection prodding at her bum as he crossed the small bathroom to the shower and turned the taps on. Hermione squealed when icy water slid down her back and Charlie laughed.

"Sorry," he chuckled before capturing her lips for another kiss and making her grateful for the cold water when her temperature immediately spiked.

Merlin, she couldn't remember ever enjoying the touch of a wizard quite so much and Hermione kissed him until she was dizzy, breathless with longing and positively aching to have him filling her once more. Moaning against his lips, Hermione rubbed herself against him needily, wanting desperately to feel him stretching her open as he took her. Charlie gave a low and wicked chuckle, pressing her into the wall of the shower and Hermione broke their kiss to hiss in surprise at the cold tiles on her flushed skin.

"Such a responsive little witch," he muttered into her neck when he kissed his way to the sweet spot below her ear, making her moan.

"Gods, you're a tease," Hermione muttered, her eyes closed against the ecstasy.

"Hungry for it, love?" he laughed, and Hermione opened her eyes to meet his wild gaze, amazed by the intensity in his eyes as he watched her.

"Please fuck me?" Hermione asked politely, surprising him with her language if the way his eyes widened was anything to go by.

He groaned, leaning in and capturing her lips once more, his tongue sliding deliciously against hers even as he pulled back just a little, snaking his hand between their bodies and burrowing it between her legs. He found her wet and ready, two long calloused fingers sinking inside her with ease and Hermione moaned, closing her eyes and tipping her head back against the wall of the shower as he beckoned his fingers rapidly, putting pressure on her g-spot repeatedly and making her crazy.

"Gods," Hermione whispered breathlessly as fire coiled through her, racing through her blood and making her crazy.

Her breaths grew sharp and her body twitched against his when Charlie tormented her mercilessly, working his fingers in and out of her, forever returning to that special spot he seemed so adept at finding. His thumb pressed down on her clit before beginning to draw little circles, a low whine of need tore from Hermione and her legs tightened around Charlie as the firestorm he'd lit within her reached its crescendo, exploding through her and making her see stars behind her eyelids.

"Beautiful," she heard him mutter, sounding smug.

She was much too boneless to punish his smugness even as he slipped his hand from between her legs, burrowing it further between them to grip his cock. He aligned himself at her entrance, thrusting shallowly so as to avoid entering her until Hermione opened dazed eyes to peer at him.

"Ready,  _koroleva_?" he asked, his voice husky with his own desire.

"Take me," Hermione whispered.

He groaned as he did, sinking himself deep inside her, stretching her open and making her ache just little. When he was fully sheathed within her, Hermione was seeing stars all over again, her body just a little sore from the vigorous shagging last night and this morning.

"So tight," Charlie muttered against her neck, nipping her shoulder and her neck just sharply enough to get her attention before laving the skin with little licks.

The water of the shower cascaded over the two of them and Charlie took his time withdrawing from her before gliding in deep once more.

"Harder, Charlie," Hermione moaned huskily, lost to all but the feel of him ravishing her.

"Fuck," she heard him whisper, seeming to enjoy it when she begged for more, for it harder, and faster.

He took her hard, her spine grating against the tiles as he drove into her again and again. When she was on the brink of a second orgasm, he suddenly stopped, pulling out of her and lowering her to the floor Hermione squeaked in surprise when he pulled her off the wall and spun her in his hold. Lifting her hands, he planted both of them against the wall of the shower before dragging his hands the length of her arms, over her breasts, stopping to pinch both of her nipples just hard enough to make her squeal, before smoothing his hands over her body to her hips, canting them back, forcing her to push her arse out in his direction.

Hermione went up on her toes, knowing their height difference was going to make this position difficult when they weren't lying in bed. He aligned his cock at her entrance and tunneled back into her with a groan, one hand gripping her hip while the other came up to tangle in her loose, wet curls, gripping just hard enough to make it sting before he snapped his hips, plunging so deep it ached and Hermione loosed a guttural groan without meaning to.

"Fuck, Charlie," Hermione whimpered when he did it again, driving into her again and again, his pubic bone bumping her tailbone, his body slamming against hers, their flesh slapping together wetly as he took her hard and fast and so deep Hermione was sure she'd never dislodge him.

"So fucking tight," she heard him mutter. "So wet. So warm."

Hermione rocked her hips, rearing back into every thrust feeling the way he hit that special spot inside of her every single time, shunting her up the pinnacle of pleasure again, determined to pitch her off the edge and into the waiting pool of bliss.

Hermione could feel it rising, tightening like a coil inside of her, winding and winding until she was sure she might break something when it snapped free.

"Oh, gods," she breathed. "Charlie, more!"

He groaned, grunting gutturally and snapping his hips even harder, one hand leaving her hip to curl around and pinch her clit. Hermione screamed as she came, everything inside of her splintering with all the violence of a well-aimed  _Reducto_. Her body clamped down tightly, gripping him so tightly that she heard Charlie begin to curse.

"Sweet fucking Merlin," he gasped, his head tipping back as he lost his rhythm, driving into her deeper and spilling his seed inside of her.

Hermione's knees wobbled precariously and only his hold on her body kept her on her feet. He curled his arm around her snugly, one hand braced against the wall as he lowered his forehead to rest it against the middle of her back, his hot breath ghosting over her sensitive flesh. Hermione trembled, her eyes closed and her heart pounding as she tried to catch her breath.

"Fucking hell, you'll be the death of me, witch," Charlie muttered against her skin, curling his arm around her tighter and Hermione smiled just a little, feeling gloriously content and at peace with life in the moments following such intense pleasure.

"Thank you," she murmured quietly some time later, neither of them moving as the hot water beat down on the two of them.

Charlie laughed breathlessly.

"Thank  _you_ , Hermione," he replied. "Bloody hell, I could sleep for a week!"

Hermione hummed in agreement, straightening slowly and prying herself loose of Charlie's hold, feeling his softening member slip free of her folds. He still leaned against the wall, and he blinked at her dazedly when she turned to peer up at him. She grinned, seeing how worn out he looked, and she didn't really think about it as she reached for the soap and began working soapy circles over his skin.

"What're you doin'?" he asked, looking amused.

"Washing you," she shrugged, tracing her hands over him, using the soap to budge stubborn soot and blood stains that littered his freckled skin.

"Worried I can't do it myself?" he asked.

Hermione shrugged, kind of liking the way he tunneled a hand back into her hair, his nails scraping against her scalp affectionately in a way that turned her to putty.

"It'll be easier to find any missed injuries if I wash every inch of you," she told him softly.

"Going to let me return to the favour?" he asked, closing his eyes and letting her take care of him, a crooked smile pulling at one corner of his mouth.

"If you like," Hermione nodded, smiling softly and tracing the soap along the length of his muscular arms, noting that he truly was incredibly strong and powerful in a way that ought to have scared her. He could break her with one hand, if he really wanted to.

He stood still, letting her work the soap over his shoulders, around his neck and down his front, working her way slowly lower. He hummed, squirming a little when she carefully washed his junk, thoroughly cleaning him before working her way down each of his legs, going so far as to lift first one foot, and then the other, soaping them clean too.

"Where did you come from,  _koroleva_?" he asked in a low voice when she moved around behind him, giving his back the same treatment in reverse working her way up from his feet, soaping his bum and then kneading her soapy hands into the knots of muscle in his back, making him groan.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, trailing her hands over the wide expanse of his back and noting the many freckles on his skin.

"You," he muttered when she abandoned the soap and reached for the shampoo bottle, working her fingers into his thick red hair. "You show up in my room last night and strip, right off the bat. And here you are, letting me fuck you into a stupor before scrubbing me clean. What good deed did I do to deserve this? I need to know so I can keep doing it."

Hermione chuckled, shaking her head at him as she moved around in front of him, still shampooing his hair. He pushed off the wall to pick up the soap before beginning to return the favour.

"I don't even know you," he muttered, opening his eyes once more when he'd washed the shampoo from his hair. "But every time I look at you, I want to watch you stripping out of your sundress and I want to bury myself inside you all over again."

Hermione grinned.

"I have no objections," she admitted.

"Cheeky witch," he muttered, lathering her with soap thoroughly while she worked conditioner into his hair.

When she'd washed off, Hermione went up on her toes and pecked him on the lips before letting herself out of the shower to let him wash the conditioner out of his hair. She didn't wait for him to finish before collecting her dirty clothes and heading up the stairs to the very top of the house, letting herself into the bedroom they'd decided to squabble over.

Hermione shook her head, wondering what her friends would say if they could see her.

Dumping her dirty clothes in the hamper in the corner, Hermione filched some clean knickers from one of the drawers she'd claimed for herself. She smirked when she looked around for a night-shirt before spotting one of Charlie's old Gryffindor Quidditch jerseys hanging haphazardly from one of the drawers. Snatching it up, she pulled it on over her head, smirking when it fell to her knees, the sleeves flopping down over her hands. Comfortable and pleased with herself for spotting it, Hermione stuffed her feet into her slippers before skipping off down the stairs once more, intent on getting herself a cup of tea before bed.

"Oi, where're you going?" Charlie called when he spotted her; Hermione almost crashed into him as he exited the master bedroom in only a towel.

"To get a cup of tea," she said, sliding around him. "Do you want one?"

He traced his eyes over her petite frame and her long bare legs. Hermione knew he'd noticed that she was wearing his jersey and his mouth twitched like that act amused him.

"Yeah, alright," he nodded. "White with one."

Hermione nodded, continuing on down the stairs to boil the kettle. When she had both cups made, she climbed the stairs once more, all the way to the top where she and Charlie were sharing the room. She stopped in the doorway, shaking her head when she noticed him poking about looking at the books on the bookshelf that belonged to her. He still only wore the towel he'd wrapped around his waist, and Hermione couldn't help pausing to admire the view.

"You certainly have a varied taste in branches of magic, Granger," he said without turning to look at her and Hermione raised her eyebrows, wondering if he'd heard her on the stairs of if he was just in touch enough with his surroundings that he sensed her presence.

"An idle mind never prospers," Hermione replied, entering the room and kicking the door almost all the way closed with her foot, carrying his tea over to him and handing him the cup before crossing to the bed and setting her own cup on the bedside table and crawling into the bed.

She sighed at the feel of fresh sheets, having changed them earlier that day after last night's activities.

"You mind if I write for a bit?" he asked, dropping the towel and fishing some blue silk boxers from one of his drawers.

"Write?" she asked curiously.

Charlie looked over at her sheepishly.

"Didn't think I was all brawn and no brain, did you, Granger?" he asked, raising a self-deprecating eyebrow.

"Of course not," Hermione said. "I've sworn off brainless men."

Charlie snorted.

"What do you write?" she asked him, insatiably curious even as she picked up her book and moved it to her lap, intent on reading.

"Notes about my dragons," he admitted, shrugging his shoulders. "Nothing too exciting, just different things I spot them doing, behaviours, that kind of thing."

"Like a field guide?" Hermione asked, her interest thoroughly piqued.

"I don't know if I'd go that far," he laughed. "They're just scribbles, really. Stuff to help me keep track of them all, when the females go into heat, how aggressive the males are leading into breeding season, coordinates of their travels during migration season. That kind of thing."

Hermione smiled.

"Could I read some of them?" she asked, wondering if he'd let her.

Charlie hedged.

"They're pretty boring, Hermione," he admitted. "Mostly just names and numbers."

Hermione nodded slowly, realizing it might be too early in their acquaintance for him to allow her access to that part of himself just yet.

"Well, let me know if you change your mind," she said, shrugging her shoulders and lowering her eyes to her book.

She caught the way Charlie looked puzzled, shaking his head slowly in the corner of her eye before he gathered a writing board, some parchment, his quill and an ink pot. He looked a little unsure about sitting beside her while he made his notes, but Hermione remained unassuming and didn't take her eyes off her textbook. He watched her for a minute, shaking his head again before loading his quill and beginning to scratch out his notes on the bit of parchment.

They sat like that for more than an hour, Hermione reading and sipping her cup of tea, Charlie scribbling his notes in barely legible scrawl. He tended to jiggle his foot while he was thinking, she discovered, and he was prone to slurping his tea in long gulps.

"You want another one?" he asked after another hour ticked by.

Hermione blinked, looking over at him owlishly, having become completely engrossed in her book.

"Another?" she asked, confused.

He grinned a little.

"Another cup of tea," he clarified. "I'm having one more before I doze off for the night."

"Oh, um, sure," Hermione nodded, handing him her empty cup when he got to his feet. "What time is it."

"Almost two," he said. "Good book, eh?"

Hermione nodded.

"A bit ponderous in places, but overall it's quite informative."

"What is it?" he asked, leaning over her and tipping up the cover so he could read it. " _Curse Breaking Through the Ages_ ," he read. "You into Curse Breaking like Bill?"

Hermione shrugged.

"I'm into lots of things," she admitted. "Yesterday it was a book about Earth Magic. Tomorrow it'll probably be that tome I can see over there about Dragon Breeding."

Hermione pointed to one of his books on the shelf.

"Good read, that one," he nodded. "Bit archaic, mind you. It was written before they tightened the laws about backyard breeding and doesn't have any information about some of the newly discovered species, but it's got some good stuff about dragon breeding habits."

Hermione nodded.

"So, you like dragons?" he confirmed as he was making for the door, intent on getting them both a fresh cup of tea.

"Who doesn't like dragons, Charlie?" Hermione asked, rolling her eyes. "Enormous fire-breathing lizards with more uses in our world than you can poke a stick at? Of course, I like them. I think they're fascinating. I think most magical creatures are fascinating, actually."

Charlie stopped in the doorway, peering over his shoulder at her. His expression was unreadable, his eyes wild with a smouldering sort of look that made something inside of her squirm nervously. Hermione didn't know why, but she had the distinct feeling that her having an interest in dragons was imperative to Charlie Weasley.


	5. Chapter 5

Charlie took his time fixing them both a cup of tea, noting that Sprocket had finished his dinner and was sniffing nervously at the bowl of cat food left out for Crookshanks.

"Sprocket," he warned the dog quietly. "If that fluffy monster goes after you for touching his chow, I won't help you."

Sprocket whined, wagging his tail and looking like he wanted more food.

"You can't have more until I take you for a walk so you can handle your business, buddy," Charlie told the dog, shaking his head.

Sprocket yipped at that, his tail wagging harder and Charlie shook his head.

"Let me run this up to Granger and grab some clothes so I don't scare the muggles, and then we'll go," Charlie laughed at the dog's enthusiasm.

He was quick on the stairs, Sprocket on his heels the whole way. When he returned, Hermione was right where he'd left her, not having leaned over and peeked at his notes – which he'd purposely left lying face up on the bed to see if she would touch them. She didn't even look up from her book, though he noticed that she had her wand in her hand and was muttering to herself and swishing it. Practicing the incantation and wand movement of a spell, he reckoned.

"Here's your tea," he told her. "I've got to take Sprocket out for a quick walk so he doesn't take a dump in the hall."

She looked up, frowning a little as she watched him pull on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans.

"Right," she muttered. "Um… be careful, yeah? You never know when the Death Eaters might be watching the house."

Charlie grinned.

"I'm already careful," he told her. "Got to be, in my profession, else you get eaten."

"Yes, well, you were nearly eaten today, so watch yourself out there," she instructed.

"You want to come for a walk?" Charlie offered, wondering if she would take him up on it.

"I…" She frowned a little more, seeming surprised by the offer.

"You don't have to," Charlie held up his hands, even though he couldn't resist needling her with his next breath. "Just a suggestion, since you're so worried for my safety."

"Just for that, I'm going to hog the covers tonight," she warned him.

Charlie snorted.

"I'm stronger than you,  _koroleva_ ," he reminded her. "I could reef them so hard you'd go rolling right out of bed."

She rolled her eyes, looking like she wanted to dare him to try it and Charlie found he kind of liked the way she wasn't afraid to taunt him and tease him.

"Go walk your monster dog, Weasley," she muttered.

"Your cat better not think he's going to make himself at home on my pillow, either," Charlie warned, eyeballing the Kneazel when Crookshanks jumped up onto the bed and began padding across Charlie's side of the mattress.

"As though you're going to kick him out?" Hermione scoffed. "He knows a pushover when he sees one, don't you, Crookshanks?"

She reached over, scratching under the cat's chin and causing him to purr immediately.

"Pushover, eh?" he asked.

"Wouldn't even fight for your own room all to yourself," she teased, still stroking the cat. "You're a big pushover, Weasley."

"I made conditions if you're planning to stay the whole night," he argued.

"Maybe I'm too comfortable to get naked," she replied, daring him with her eyes to do something to make her get naked all over again.

"Course you are, you stole my jersey," he scoffed. "You like having my name stamped all over you, Granger?"

"I…" her cheeks flooded crimson and her eyes widened when she looked down at her chest where the name:  _C. Weasley,_ was stamped.

Charlie smirked, not waiting to watch her try to think of a smart retort or a protest to his suggestion.

"Come on, Sprocket," he said to the dog, calling the Dragon-Hound behind him and setting off down the stairs once more.

He let them both out into the night, watching the dog immediately bound across the street to the park. Charlie laughed when the big lout located a stick and carried it over, obviously in the mood for a game of fetch. Taking it from him, he flung the stick as hard as he could, watching the enormous dog bound after it. Looking back toward the house, Charlie found his mind wandering to the witch in his bed.

She was a sharp little thing, unafraid to speak her mind and unconcerned with her looks or silly, shallow things. Smart, too. What little he'd glimpsed of the book she'd been reading, it was high level curse breaking material. The kind Bill probably didn't even read.

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't intrigued. Up until last night, Hermione Granger had been the girl his youngest two siblings dragged home with them every summer the same way he used to drag Tonks and Finn home with him when he'd been at Hogwarts. She was just their bookish friend that his mother sometimes mentioned in conversation, and his siblings mentioned in their letters to him and little more.

He hadn't expected to find her in his presence last night, especially while he'd been naked, and he'd had a few whiskeys with Tonks before heading up to shower and then to bed. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't thought she looked bloody fit in that cute little summer dress she'd been wearing without a bra, and he'd by lying if he said he hadn't immediately become aware of her as a sexual being the minute he'd heard her first muttered " _oh…my…"._

He hadn't given her much thought until that very moment, focused solely on his dragons and taking his kicks where he could find them. They'd been few and far between when he'd been in Romania, and he wasn't about to turn down an arrangement for causal sex, even if it only lasted the length of the summer.

Hell, she might one day go on to marry one of his brothers, for all Charlie knew. But the way she'd stripped out of that dress at only the merest of suggestions had made his cock spring to life. She was a bossy little thing, he'd noticed, unafraid to speak her mind and to demand what she wanted. She wasn't shy about telling him she wanted to be fucked harder and faster, and Charlie would admit that it was refreshing and bloody hot.

Hell, even just thinking about the way she'd moaned his name so sweetly made his cock twitch inside his jeans as though he hadn't already fucked the witch twice that day. He hadn't even been this bloody virulent in his teens, for Merlin's sake, and he'd had no shortage of witches falling over themselves for his attention when he'd been at Hogwarts.

Sprocket interrupted his musings with a headbutt to the stomach when he took too long to notice the stick the dog wanted thrown and Charlie chuckled, ruffling the mutt's fur before throwing the stick again. The dog bounced after it while Charlie contemplated Hermione Granger. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't interested to see where this little arrangement led them. He'd had a shortage of witches while he'd been in Romania after shagging all the local girls and finding them lacking. He knew he was hard to please for the simple fact that he preferred his dragons and his other magical creatures to any one person's company.

He might love his family to death, and might count Bill, and Tonks among his closest friends ever since Finn had up and left the dragon reserve in Romania to follow his father's urgings and join the Death Eaters. But he could take or leave most people. He knew he had an intensity to him that scared most people, no matter how he tamped in down and played it off. He knew he was a bloody git more likely to be found wrestling a dragon for the simple thrill of fighting with the enormous beast than he would be found wrestling a pretty little witch into bed with him.

He liked what he liked, and he didn't bother with what he didn't.

Hermione…. Well. She was interesting. Smart and pretty and willing to fuck him and not demand one thing more. Bossy to the point of stripping him in front of company for the sake of healing him without a care what Remus or Tonks might think of her doing so, but adorable as she fretted over what his mother would say if and when she got wind that Charlie was fucking the curly-haired little thing. And she had his mother pegged, Charlie chuckled. The witch was nosey to the point of being rude and she would undoubtedly discover that Charlie was sharing his room and his bed with the girl he  _knew_  his mother had been hoping to set Ron up with, someday.

Shaking his head, he supposed his mother would be doubly devastated. Once upon a time she'd fancied the idea of him and Tonks being an item, too, and she hadn't got her wish then, either. One drunken snog had been enough to nip  _that_  notion in the bud long ago.

Hermione, though. Well, she certainly wouldn't be running off with Ron if Charlie had anything to say about it. And she was wearing his jersey, sleeping in his bed, and riding his cock, so he reckoned he was entitled to a bit of say on the matter. Not that he imagined he could sway her from anything if she set her mind to it. Stubborn, that one. As stubborn as the ornery dragons he wrestled with every day, and just as indifferent and curious about certain things as they were, too. He'd thought she might push the idea when she'd asked if she could read his field notes and he'd hedged about it. He'd even left them out to tempt her, wondering if she might be the nosey kind who'd go against his wishes.

She hadn't. She didn't push the subject or try to peek. She just went back to her book and hadn't bothered him even once while he'd scrawled about his lizards for hours on end. Hell, even Tonks wasn't that bloody patient. Charlie wondered if it was patience or indifference, and found himself hoping it was patience.

"Well, shit, buddy," Charlie said to Sprocket when the dog returned, waiting for his stick to be thrown again.

Sprocket woofed at him curiously, wagging his tail.

"I reckon she's gone and snagged my interest, hound," Charlie told the dog. "Don't know if it's as more than a summer fling yet, but I reckon I want to push her limits and find out how much of me she can handle, eh? You think she can tolerate my fiery temper and my obsession with the lizards?"

Sprocket woofed again, dropping the stick and lowering himself into a play bow. Charlie recognized the request to play and he lunged at the dog with a laugh. Sprocket growled and writhed when Charlie tackled him in the grass, ignoring the dampness from the dew. He grappled with the dog in the grass for a few minutes, laughing when Sprocket wriggled free before pouncing on him again

He was going to stink of dog when he got back, but Charlie didn't mind. He wondered if Hermione would, shaking his head at himself and shoving Sprocket off himself, scrubbing his hands through the dog's flame-retardant fur and ruffling him up. He shook his head to himself, thinking he needed another whiskey and a good sleep to get the witch out of his head. Not that it would help if she was sleeping beside him.

Sprocket grew tired of wrestling after a few more minutes, bounding away to do his business so they could go back inside. Charlie shook his head.

"We've got to get you some better food, mate," Charlie told the dog when the stench hit his nose from across the small park.

Sprocket woofed as though in agreement and Charlie laughed, flicking his wand to vanish the mess lest some poor muggle come across the huge shit tomorrow and think a bear was loose in the middle of London.

"Alright, you better be clean," he told the dog warningly, shaking his head when Sprocket dragged his butt along the grass like he might if he had worms. Charlie knew he didn't, worming him every two months like clockwork to keep his companion healthy.

"Come on, dog. Let's get back inside so I can give you more food and then I can crawl into bed beside that pretty witch and see if she'll let me talk her out of her knickers again."

Sprocket bounced back over to the door, seeming pleased at the idea of more food and Charlie shook his head again as he patted the hound on the head and let them both back into the house. He filled up Sprocket's dishes with wet food, biscuits, and water before spying the food for the cat on the shelf next to where he kept Sprocket's food. He topped everything up for the cat too, warning the dog not to eat the food unless he wanted a few nasty cat scratches across the nose.

He walked softly up the stairs, expecting that Remus and Tonks would be fast asleep by now and not wanting to wake them. He kind of liked living with the married couple. They both kept odd hours, like he did. Remus, thanks to this many volunteer shifts to watch over Harry, and Tonks because she was frequently put on the night shift alongside Moody at work. He wondered how they would all cope when Harry was moved here and the rest of his loud family moved back into Headquarters.

When he reached the top of the stairs, Hermione was still sitting up, her book in her lap. It looked like she was on the last few pages and he suspected she must be the type to read an entire book in a single sitting. He grinned when he noticed that she was holding her tea in both hands, though he'd bet it had gone cold. Flicking his wand subtly, he heated it up for her as he entered the bedroom and pulled his shirt off over his head.

"All quiet out there?" she asked distractedly, her eyes still on her book though she took a sip of her reheated tea.

"Not a soul in sight," Charlie nodded. "Nice night, too."

She nodded, turning the page after licking her finger. Charlie's lips twitched as he unbuttoned his jeans and he raised one eyebrow when her head snapped up at the rasp of his zipper when he undid his fly. Her eyes traced over his torso hungrily and Charlie suspected she liked what she saw.

"Your tattoos move," she said quietly, frowning at him for a moment.

Charlie looked down, seeing that the large dragon that frequently wrapped around his leg and climbed his back was instead curled into a ball in the middle of his chest, fast asleep and snoring softly. Smoke even poured from his nose in time with Charlie's breaths. The little one that usually clung to one of his arms was nowhere in sight, but Charlie could feel the little bugger moving restlessly on his back, climbing around like Charlie was a jungle gym.

"Did you think they wouldn't?" Charlie asked, baffled by her surprise.

"Muggle tattoos don't move," she told him. "The same way their pictures don't move. I've never seen anyone else with magical tattoos. The only other person's I've seen were Sirius's, actually, and his didn't move."

"Some did," Charlie shook his head. "The ones he gave himself while he was in prison, though? Nah. Not enough magic in them to make them move. It's a special process in our world to get a magical tattoo."

"I've never looked into them," she said, eyeing him curiously and looking like she wanted to reach out and touch his tattoos to see if they felt any different.

"Don't like them?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.

"It's not that," she shook her head. "Yours are nice. I suppose I never thought of anything I'd want permanently on my skin, though having them be able to move like that would be more convenient. Do you decide where they go?" she asked.

"They have designated places, which you saw yesterday, and spend most of their time there. But they move of their own accord, sometimes. This guy likes sleeping on my chest when I'm worn out," Charlie told her, smoothing his hand over the large dragon on his chest. "The other guy's restless. Get a load of him."

He turned, showing her the dragon pouncing about and flying across his shoulder blades.

"Almost alive, like the portraits at Hogwarts," she noticed, chuckling when the little dragon pounced on the back of his neck, biting him and breathing fire toward his hair.

"As annoying at times, too," Charlie told her, shucking himself out of his jeans and crossing the room intent on joining her in the bed.

His notes were right where he'd left them, untouched, and Charlie was pleased she'd passed his test before he moved everything over to set it on top of the desk.

"Alright, Whiskers," Charlie said when he returned to the bed and eyed Crookshanks coolly, noting that the cat was fully stretched out on his side of the bed. "Budge up or be squashed, cat."

He gave the cat a moment to move, before lowering himself into bed and forcing the creature to move if he didn't want to be squished. Crookshanks growled, yowling as he padded across his mistress before jumping onto the floor.

"And you called me a pushover," he taunted Hermione when the cat sauntered right out of the room, his tail twitching in annoyance.

"You're lucky he didn't bite you," Hermione told him, looking after the cat as thought confused. "He usually bites everyone but me if they make him move once he's comfortable."

"Animals can sense it when wizards are likely to bite them back if they try it," Charlie told her. "I bite my dragons all the time when the buggers get snappy with me. One fluffy cat would be no trouble."

"You  _bite_  your dragons?" she asked, shocked, turning to look at him and clearly doubting his sanity.

"Got to keep them in line, yeah?" Charlie grinned. "Otherwise they think they can walk all over you and things get messy. That's how Tamers get eaten."

"Ginny wasn't kidding when she said you were barmy, was she?" Hermione needled, looking amused.

"Comes with the territory, love," Charlie winked at her. "You want to finish that before we put the light out?"

He nodded at her book.

"Do you mind if I do?" she asked, and Charlie could tell that if he said yes, she'd probably put the light out.

"Go ahead and finish it,  _koroleva_ ," he told her. "That way I can annoy you while you study dragons tomorrow night."

Hermione laughed at him, shaking her head and turning her attention back to her book. Charlie shuffled around, getting himself comfortable before realizing he was struggling because he still had his boxers on. Snorting at himself, he flung the covers off and peeled them down his leg, tossing them on the floor beside his jeans. When he looked over at Hermione again, she was eyeing his junk like she wanted to reach out and touch it and Charlie hid a smirk, pleased that the witch was attracted to him.

He reached over, tapping the page and drawing her attention to it, liking the way she blushed when she realized she'd been staring.

"You're a bad influence," she accused as she flipped the page of her book one more time.

"Am not," Charlie argued, slinging his arm over his eyes and stretching out on his back with the covers pulled just high enough to cover his junk from the cool night air.

He could practically feel Hermione's gaze tracing over his bare chest, but she didn't reach out and touch him as he hoped she would. Instead the sound of her final page turn met his ears before the sound of the book closing followed a short time after. He felt the bed jostle when she leaned out of it to set down the book and to put her teacup on the bedside table before a muttered  _'Nox'_  turned out the light and plunged them into darkness.

She shuffled about on her side of the bed, trying to get comfortable, and Charlie grinned in the dark.

"I hope that's the sound of you getting naked,  _koroleva_ ," he murmured.

"Do you want your mother to catch us?" She laughed, rolling toward him.

"She won't catch us," Charlie insisted. "What reason would she have for invading this place on a random Wednesday. She doesn't know you're here, or she'd have dragged you off to the Burrow by now to try and fatten you up."

"What do you think she'll do if she turns up here and finds the two of us naked and in bed together?" Hermione challenged.

"Probably blush red as a tomato," Charlie laughed. "Listen, Granger, we had a deal. We can share if you're naked."

"And you're going to kick me out if I'm not?' She asked, sounding smug like she doubted he would do it.

"Yep," he said. "I'll carry you right on down to the room you used to share with Ginny and toss you inside where it's cold."

"You wouldn't dare!" Hermione laughed.

Charlie lifted his arm from over his eyes and peered at her through the dimly lit room.

"Just try me, witch," he dared.

Hermione giggled, shaking her head and huffing at him before she pulled off the jersey she wore and tossed it at him.

"Knickers too," he said, throwing the jersey to the floor on her side of the bed, knowing she would need it in the morning or if she got up at all through the night.

He snaked a hand across the bed when she stopped wiggling, rolling onto his side to reach her. She trembled under the touch when he smoothed his hand across her taut stomach and then lower. Charlie ghosted his hand over the junction of her thighs before trailing the tips of his fingers down the silky skin of her far leg. She squeaked in surprise when he hooked his hand under the back of her knee before tugging on it, dragging her across the small space separating them and looping her legs across his hips. The move forced her to roll in his direction and Charlie smirked when her nimble fingers danced over his abs and across his ribs while she snuggled closer, pillowing her cheek in the hollow of his shoulder.

"Comfortable?" He asked when she stopped wriggling.

"Mmmm," she hummed, sounding sleepy and Charlie smiled a little, reminding himself that she was younger than him and that she'd probably had a big day, considering all she'd done down in the kitchen and the entrance hall to begin making this old house look like people actually lived in it.

"Big day, huh?" he asked quietly. "Wore you out?"

She nodded a little.

"I suppose so," she said. "Though I'm sure you're responsible for my exhaustion."

Charlie laughed.

"I didn't make you renovate the house, love," he teased.

"No, you just ravished me within an inch of my life. Twice."

He couldn't help but smirk, feeling rather proud of himself for that.

"I'll ravish you again, unless you're too sleepy," he offered, tracing his fingers down her back and smoothing his hand over the curve of her bum.

She grizzled like the idea of more physical exertion was too much to bear.

"I'll get chafe if we keep at this rate," she muttered, sounding rather adorable in her sleepiness.

Charlie chuckled. "Probably true," he admitted before turning his head and pressing a kiss to her forehead, kind of liking the feel of the little witch snuggled into him just for the sake of warmth and comfort.

She sighed contently, nuzzling her nose into the side of his neck and Charlie closed his eyes, supposing they'd better get some rest.

"Hermione?" he whispered just before he could doze off.

"Hmmm?" she hummed, sounding mostly asleep.

"Don't go running off to Diagon Alley or anywhere so public by yourself in future, yeah?" Charlie asked, recalling that she'd done so that day despite the danger. "You're warning me to be careful crossing the street and loitering in the park with Sprocket, and Diagon Alley is a hundred times more dangerous and much more densely populated with Death Eaters and sympathizers to Voldemort's cause. I don't want you getting hurt,  _koroleva_. Promise me you won't go there by yourself again. If you really need to go, you take Remus, or Tonks or me with you, alright?"

"None of you were around when I went today," she protested without lifting her head from his chest. "But I bought enough supplies to stock Headquarters until well after Harry and your family arrive. We're all prepared for the next meeting, and for the whole place to get busier. I promise I won't be leaving again unless I desperately have to."

Charlie could barely make her out in the darkened room, only the vaguest hints of the outside street lights and moonlight peeking around the curtains pulled closed over the windows, but he could tell she was frowning at him from the tone in her voice. He suspected that she didn't like being told what to do. She was almost eighteen, she'd shipped her parents off with no memory of her, and she was clever as the devil. Charlie supposed that the last thing she wanted was some bloke she barely knew trying to boss her around or telling her how to live her life, no matter that he only mentioned it for the sake of her safety, knowing she was important to his family, and to Harry and the Order. Hell, Charlie was thinking she could grow to become very important to him one day, too.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "Got to keep safe in times like these, yeah?"

She hummed in agreement, putting her head back down on his chest and Charlie smiled, sighing softly and closing his eyes once more before allowing himself to drift off with her in his arms.


	6. Chapter 6

When Hermione woke in the morning she found herself intimately entwined with Charlie Weasley, her leg thrown across him and her head pillowed on his chest. His hands held her snug against him and Hermione squinted in the dimly lit room, trying to figure out where she was for one long, brain-dead moment before she recalled that this was Headquarters and the room she and Charlie were tentatively sharing. Wondering what the time was and why she'd awoken, Hermione wriggled in Charlie's grip until she managed to pry herself loose. She squeaked when she attempted to roll away from him, her bladder making its demands known, only to find that there was something warm and soft occupying her side of the bed.

"Sprocket?" Hermione frowned at the enormous dog where he was sprawled across the covers lying on his side, his back facing her.

The dog's tail began to wag but he didn't lift his head or attempt to move despite Hermione almost squashing him.

"Oh, for the love of Merlin," Hermione muttered, wiggling around some more and attempting to avoid disturbing Charlie and to keep from crushing the dog. Not that she really thought she could, big as he was. Grumbling under her breath, Hermione scooted on her bum to the end of the bed after she got free of the covers - no easy feat with Charlie gripping one end and the huge dragon-hound lying on the other end.

She frowned down at her naked body when she realized she was nude, and Hermione sighed before stumbling around the side of the bed to locate the jumper she'd pinched from Charlie, recalling that she'd taken it off and that he'd tossed it on the floor after she'd thrown it at him. When her private parts were sufficiently covered enough that she could get away with leaving the room, Hermione let herself out of the bedroom intent on getting to the bathroom and dealing with her impatient bladder.

Having been awake so late, and certain that it was still rather early in the morning, Hermione was tired and cranky, and she planned to go back to bed just as soon as she'd peed. The process was impeded when she collided with Tonks as the other witch was leaving the bathroom, looking similarly disheveled. Her pink hair was all in a mess and she was covered in love bites, claw-marks, and real bites.

"Mmmpphff," Tonks grunted unintelligibly, flapping her hands at her sides in frustration because Hermione was in the way.

"Grmmphh," Hermione responded just as inarticulately.

She didn't protest when Tonks put her hands on Hermione's shoulders, steering her out of the way so they could pass one another in the doorway.

Hermione realized when she'd locked the bathroom door and sat herself down on the loo that it was just as well Tonks was also tired, else the other woman would've noticed Hermione's attire and she suspected that if the witch didn't already know she was shagging Charlie, she was going to make a fuss about it. Probably not in a bad way, Hermione supposed, but a fuss nonetheless. And the more fuss going on, the more likely it was that her little arrangement with Charlie would get back to Molly, Ron, and Ginny, and Hermione didn't much fancy that idea.

She didn't at all like the sound of facing off against Ron's temper when he learned she was shagging his older brother. That would go over as well as a fart at a tea party, Hermione was sure. He would grow irrational and offended and likely accuse her of being a trollop and maybe even try to guilt-trip her about how he'd broken up with Lavender, thinking she still fancied him. Hermione wasn't looking forward to breaking the news to the idiot that she wasn't some brainless bimbo ruled by her emotions.

Yes, initially she'd been jealous because she'd thought he and her were going to Slughorn's Christmas party together last year. But when she'd seen the way he snogged Lavender so disgustingly she'd gotten over her jealousy and gotten over her crush before moving right on to being disgusted with him both for thinking he could make her jealous as a means of finding out if she fancied him, rather than just asking, and also because it was Lavender. Air-headed, simpering, gossiping little bitch who made fun of Hermione's hair and excluded her even in their shared dormitory, Lavender. And that hadn't been something she could easily forgive.

She'd moved on, courtesy of encountering Theodore Nott invading her usual study-nook at Hogwarts shortly after Ron and Lavender had made spectacles of themselves. And unlike her bone-headed best friends, he wasn't an utter moron, but actually well-versed in magic just like she was,  _and_  he actually enjoyed reading. Coupled with the fact that he turned out not to be a raging bigot like Malfoy and his cronies, Hermione had found a companion to pass away hours with when she'd needed a break from watching Ron and Lavender lick each other's tonsils.

She couldn't remember which one of them had moved first to turn their tentative friendship that mostly revolved around companionable reading and the occasional heated debate over common magical theorems, into snogging against the bookshelves and shagging in broom cupboards, but it had, and Hermione could honestly say that shagging him had been cathartic. Theo had certainly cured her of her wretched crush on Ron, that was certain. What was more, he never made any demands of her. He was as happy to spend the evening shagging her as he was to sit beside her, each of them reading the separate books.

He'd even plucked up the courage to ask her shortly before Christmas last year if she'd like to turn their little arrangement into something more permanent and more meaningful. Hermione smiled as she went about her business, recalling the sheepish way the bookish Slytherin had alluded the idea of accompanying her to Slughorn's party when he learned she didn't have a date. While she'd rather adored him for offering, when they'd discussed it frankly, spanning everything from her close friendship with Harry and her affiliation to the Order, all the way through to his father being a Death Eater and pressuring Theo to follow in his footsteps, they'd both realized that it would be a messy, doomed relationship even before it could begin. Without the war looming, things might've been different, but eventually they'd both come to the conclusion that things between them couldn't ever go beyond secret rendezvous in broom cupboards and forgotten corners of the castle.

Hermione had accepted that, though she'd never told her friends about it, and at the end of the school year just before breaking for the holidays Theo had pulled her aside wanting a quiet word with her. Her stomach sank all over again when she recalled the way he'd led her to an abandoned Charms classroom and locked the door before turning to her with an apology gleaming in his green eyes. She'd known before he rolled up his sleeve that he'd been branded a Death Eater.

What was worse, she'd known that they'd had to do  _horrible_  things to him to make him accept it, knowing intimately just what his views were on blood prejudice. It had felt like goodbye, that last, sensual shag they shared, and Hermione knew she'd caught him trying to hide the tears that escaped him by burying his face in her hair. He'd told her they couldn't continue their little secret love affair in the coming year, that he'd been forced to pick the losing side in the war and would be forced to do reprehensible things, lest he be tortured or killed for being too weak. He'd made her promise to protect herself and her family as best she knew how, and he'd made her promise she wouldn't worry about him and wouldn't dwell on what they'd had.

When he'd broken the news to her that along with a brand new Dark Mark, he'd also been given a marriage contract and informed he would be marrying Daphne Greengrass in short order, he'd actually let her see the tear that ran down his cheek, then. Hermione hadn't really known what to tell him or how to comfort him, knowing he didn't fancy Daphne in the slightest and knowing that, despite their resolution not to turn their affair into anything involving emotion, that he'd grown to care for her deeply.

Hermione sighed as she washed her hands, examining herself in the mirror and wincing at the state of her wild curls. She traced her eyes over the red and gold jersey encasing her body, shaking her head just a little at the name  _C. Weasley_  stamped across her chest and her back. Charlie had been unexpected, to say the least. She'd vowed to Theo that she wouldn't dwell on their past, and that she'd find someone new, and she supposed that she'd done so.

She didn't know yet what she and Charlie were going to be. Maybe they would just shag for the summer. Maybe they'd shag for longer than that. Maybe he had a collection of bad habits she didn't know about yet that would make her rethink notions of continuing their fun. All she really knew was that he was in the room she'd wanted to claim for herself, he wasn't moving, he  _was_  a bloody good shag, and thus far he was proving to be extremely uncomplicated, which was something she found she valued very much. She liked that she didn't feel the need to second guess herself with the Dragon Tamer. Not when they were shagging, and not when they were just sharing that room. She hadn't thought twice last night before peeling him out of his clothes and healing his wounds.

She hadn't spent yesterday dwelling on what shagging him so quickly might mean or worrying that he might think her a tart for dropping her dress at the first hint of seduction. She didn't worry that he might discover all her bad habits whilst sharing a room with her for the summer. Indeed, the only thing she was worried about where Charlie Weasley was concerned was the reaction his family would have when they found out the two of them were shagging. She'd bet Molly would pitch a fit.

That Hermione would dare to flip off one brother in favour of another wouldn't sit well with the witch. Hermione was expecting a frosty reception when Molly found out. After all, Hermione hadn't forgotten the way the woman had treated her in fourth year when she'd been reading Skeeter's lies and had believed that Hermione was two-timing Harry and Viktor. Indeed, she suspected it might've been Molly who told Ron to try things on with Lavender to make Hermione jealous, and that had backfired spectacularly. She could just imagine that Molly was going to be first surprised, then annoyed with her for shagging Charlie if and when she found out. Eventually, she might come around to the idea, if she and Charlie actually became a couple, rather than roommates and fuck buddies, but until then she suspected things would be rather tense.

Shaking her head to herself and grabbing a drink of water before using some of the mouthwash in the bathroom to clear the foul taste from her tongue, Hermione exited the bathroom once more and began the climb back toward her bed. She was grateful she didn't run into Tonks or Remus on the stairs again, and she narrowed her eyes when she reached the bedroom to see that Sprocket was still sprawled across her side of the bed.

Not fancying being spooned by the dog or trying to wedge herself between the hound and Charlie, Hermione rounded the bed to Charlie's side and peeled back the covers. Charlie grunted, frowning though he didn't open his eyes, and Hermione crawled into the small space next to him before shuffling back against him, forcing him across the bed a small way.

"You alright?" he grumbled, rolling to his side and shuffling across the bed a bit before slinging his arm over her waist.

"Sprocket's on my side," Hermione replied, burrowing down next to him, intent on getting back to sleep.

She felt the way Charlie twisted, his arm disappearing from around her to shove at the dog.

"Bloody hound," he chuckled huskily, still sounding mostly asleep. "Move over, mutt. You're hogging all the space."

Hermione heard Sprocket groan before the bed jostled and Charlie pulled her across the mattress toward the middle, clearly not minding in the slightest to have the dog pressed against his back while he slept.

"What time is it?" he asked Hermione when he looped his arms around her once more.

"Only just six," Hermione said.

"Urgh," Charlie groaned. "Why are we awake?"

"I had to pee," Hermione said unrepentantly.

"More sleep," Charlie growled, burying his face in her hair.

Hermione couldn't agree more, closing her eyes and snuggling into his hold a little deeper before drifting back to sleep.

**~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~O~**

The next time she woke, Hermione knew it a heartbeat that they weren't alone. Something evidenced by the sound of a woman humming as the door creaked open. Hermione's eyes flew open and her whole body tensed. Behind her, Charlie tensed as well, his arm tightening around her and pulling her a little closer against his chest before he rolled just a bit further in her direction, half-covering her body with his. Having turned in her sleep so that she was facing into his chest, Hermione realized he was trying to help hide her.

Molly Weasley didn't pause in her humming as she bustled into the room, clearly not expecting to find her son awake or with company. When something heavy suddenly flopped down on Charlie back, making him huff in surprise, Hermione blinked her eyes open, tipped her face to look at him and spotted Sprocket resting his chin on Charlie's shoulder. Charlie grinned at her, and Hermione realized that the dog was also attempting to help hide her, making Hermione think that the Dragon-Hound must be as intelligent as a Kneazel.

"Oh, Sprocket, dear, you'll squash him. Silly dog," Molly began to chuckle as she picked up the laundry hamper. "What are you doing on the bed, anyway? Honestly, Charlie, haven't I told you to train him not to sleep on the bed. You'll ruin the sheets, he's so furry."

Charlie rolled his eyes at Hermione, clearly disapproving his mother's notions of making his companion sleep on the floor and Hermione made a mental note not to mention that she'd prefer not to have to share the bed with the dog, too. In response to her question, clearly knowing his mother knew he was awake, Charlie groaned unintelligibly.

"Oh, don't be like that, dear. It's after ten, already. You need to get up and face the day, love."

"Mum," Charlie grumbled, and Hermione marveled at the grown man's ability to sound like a petulant child. She tried very hard not to giggle.

"Don't give me that tone, Charlie Weasley. It's high time you sorted out your sleeping schedule and stopped sleeping the days away."

"I work with the lizards until after midnight every night, Mum," Charlie reminded her, rolling his eyes and sounding impatient. "Let me sleep, would you?"

"Oh, now really. I don't see why you can't start work earlier and finish earlier as a result," Molly said, clearly not taking the hint.

Sprocket barked at her.

Hermione had to bury her face in Charlie's chest to keep from giggling out loud when Molly huffed disapprovingly.

"You'll be late for work if you go back to sleep now, love. Why don't you come downstairs and have some breakfast?"

Charlie groaned again.

"Mum, what are you even doing here?" Charlie growled, sounding less and less tolerant of the woman the longer she stayed.

"I thought I'd stop by to make sure you're alright. I know how Nymphadora makes a mess of the kitchen, and I haven't done laundry here in days… though I see you must've put a load on yourself?"

Charlie tipped his head to meet Hermione's gaze, his eyes wide. Hermione nodded. "I did some yesterday," she whispered.

"Did it yesterday, Mum," Charlie said. "Changed the sheets and everything."

"Don't let her take that basket," Hermione whispered, beginning to panic. "My knickers and things are in there. She'll know…"

Charlie paled a little.

"You actually did your own laundry?" Molly asked, seeming surprised and maybe a little offended.

"I'm a grown man, Mum," Charlie reminded her. "Been living away from your cooking and cleaning habits for almost eight years, since Hogwarts. I can actually take care of myself, you know? Leave the basket. I'll do another load later in the week, alright?"

"But…" Molly protested, and Hermione closed her eyes, realizing the woman really didn't know how to be anything but an efficient mother.

Charlie winced.

"Mum… I got it, yeah? You're not currently staying here, and I'm used to fending for myself. I don't need you stopping by to pick up after me, I promise."

"But, I…" Molly said. "I'm your mother."

Charlie winced.

"Mum," he sighed, frowning at Hermione and clearly unsure what to do, she silently pointed out the fact that while she was still wearing his jersey from her trip to the bathroom, he was stark naked under the sheets.

"You don't need me…" Molly said, sounding rather forlorn.

"Mum, I didn't say that," Charlie said, looking panicked now. "Look, if it means so much to you, take the hamper and put on a load of washing… but I'm naked here, you know? Give me a minute to get dressed, and we'll have a cup of tea, alright?"

Having gotten her way, Molly perked right back up and Hermione narrowed her eyes.

"I'll see you downstairs in a few minutes, darling," she said before bustling around the room, collecting more of the clothing littering the floor.

Hermione just knew the woman was going to realize that some of them were girl's clothes and she closed her eyes, waiting for Molly's gasp of surprise. When it didn't come before the door creaked closed as Sprocket bounded after Molly, she rolled out of Charlie's hold and stared at him.

"Bloody hell," Charlie said.

"My clothes are in that hamper," Hermione said.

"Will she know they're yours?" Charlie asked.

"Who else would you be luring into bed with you at Order headquarters?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows. "She'll know they belong to someone who knows how to get in. The house is protected by  _Fidelus_ charms."

"Yeah, but Dumbledore's dead. Maybe she'll think I've got myself a girlfriend and told her how to get in," he said.

"You don't think she'll know it's me when you appear downstairs in a few minutes before I arrive, looking just as sleep disheveled?" Hermione challenged.

Charlie sighed, flopping onto his back and running his hands over his face.

"If you wait a while before coming down, she won't know. Maybe grab a shower? Or sleep for longer, if you like?" he suggested.

Hermione sighed, rolling out of bed and running her hands through her hair.

"She's going to find out," Hermione said. "I warned you this would happen."

Charlie nodded before sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

"What are you doing sleeping in clothing, anyway?" he asked before she could pull the jersey off over her head, intent on getting dressed, knowing she wouldn't be able to sleep any longer with Molly in the house.

"I didn't take it off after I went to the loo this morning," Hermione shrugged.

"We had a deal, Granger," Charlie said.

Hermione squeaked when he lunged for her, snagging his arms around her a pulling her across the room and down into his lap until she was straddling him.

"Don't even think about it," Hermione told him, finding that despite the awkwardness of his mother invading their bedroom, he was still aroused at the sight of Hermione.

"You're not wearing knickers," Charlie grinned.

"You mother is downstairs," Hermione reminded him even as she smoothed her hands over his shoulders and up to tangle in his hair.

"She'll keep. She's busy investigating whose knickers are in my hamper," Charlie chuckled, stretching up, intent on kissing her.

"We're going to get caught," Hermione said against his lips before kissing him hungrily, a bolt of magic zinging through her blood the minute their tongues met.

"So, what?" Charlie replied before snogging her senseless.

He laid back against the bed, pulling her down on top of him and Hermione kissed him hungrily, grinding herself against him and grinning at the way his cock twitched. Lifting herself off him just enough, Hermione guided him inside of her, impaling herself upon him and moaning softly at the feel of him filling her up. Peeling the jersey off over her head, Charlie traced his hands over her waist and up to cup her breasts as Hermione slowly slid up and down the length of his cock, marveling at how good it felt to have him inside of her.

The view he made all stretched out on the bed certainly leant itself to having Hermione forget her annoyance with Molly for being so pushy and nosy, and her annoyance with Charlie for not being firmer with his mother. She didn't at all fancy the way the woman would react when she found Hermione's clothes in that basket and Hermione made a mental note to hide them away when they were returned, lest Molly spot her wearing them and figure out Hermione was shagging Charlie before Hermione was ready to face the disapproval and chiding the woman would undoubtedly unleash.

"Fucking hell,  _koroleva_ ," Charlie breathed when Hermione put her hands on his chest for balance, working herself up and down the length of his cock. He closed his eyes, tipping his head back like he couldn't get enough of the searing heat boiling between them.

Hermione had always loved morning sex because of how utterly lazy it felt. Awaking aroused and stretching for orgasm was almost as good as that first big stretch of muscles in the morning when her spine popped and her toes curled and Hermione smiled a little as Charlie tightened his grip on her hips, thrusting up into every downward slide as she rode him.

"What does that mean?" Hermione asked breathlessly.

"Hmmm?" Charlie hummed, bucking under her harder as Hermione began to clamp down around him, her body clenching and fluttering with oncoming release.

" _Koroleva,_ " Hermione clarified. "You keep calling me  _koroleva._ What does it mean?"

Charlie's lips twitched like he might laugh, his breath coming a little faster as he opened his blue eyes to meet her gaze.

"Can't tell you that, love," he chuckled softly. "You might hit me."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, gasping when he dug his strong fingers into her hips even tighter, thrusting up into her even harder and hitting on that special spot deep inside of her that made her crazy. The wicked coil of heat twisting inside of her almost drove her mad when he reached up with one hand to pull her down closer before claiming a searing kiss from her lips.

Flames danced behind her eyes when they slid closed as the inferno inside of her set her ablaze.

"Oh, god, Charlie," Hermione breathed against his lips when the new angle pitched her off the cliff and into the raging firestorm of sensation.

Charlie's low chuckle was wicked, and he seemed to take great delight in riding out her orgasm before flipping her across the bed, rolling with her and driving into her harder. Hermione curled her legs around his waist, delirious with the endorphin rush and the flare of magic that seemed to course through her every time he kissed her. He thrust hard and fast, chasing down his own release and he gave a low groan that made her quiver with delight as he drove into her hard and held, his hips jerking just a little as he emptied himself within her.

Breathing hard, he relaxed on top of her, pinning her to the bed in a way that Hermione was thinking she could get very used to, in fact. She panted a little, tracing her fingers over the strong muscles of his back, feeling them jump and shift restlessly beneath his skin as he tried to catch his breath.

"Why do you think I'd hit you if you tell me what it means?" Hermione wanted to know, frowning a little as she stared at the ceiling above him, knowing he needed to hurry downstairs, else Molly would likely come back up looking for him.

Charlie chuckled again, lifting himself enough to prop himself up on his elbows so he could peer into her face. He would a wicked little grin and Hermione raised her eyebrows at him.

"It means 'queen', in Russian," Charlie told her.

Hermione frowned at him.

"Why would I hit you for calling me that?" she wanted to know.

"Because where I come from, in the Dragon Sanctuary,  _koroleva_  is the term for a female dragon. The term for the males is  _balaur_. Didn't think you'd appreciate being called a girl dragon," Charlie chuckled. "At least not while you were riding my todger."

Hermione's cheeks brightened at his smirk and his teasing tone, and she knew he was waiting for her to be offended that he was called her a giant fire-breathing lizard. Shaking her head and rolling her eyes, Hermione didn't say anything about it, not offended in the slightest, but not entirely sure how she felt about the endearment, either.

Before she could open her mouth and remind him that he needed to be getting downstairs to have a cup of tea with his mother, the sound of claws scratching at the door followed by a whine sounded.

"That'll be Sprocket," Charlie chuckled. "Likely sent by Mum, or scolded by Mum."

"You better let him in then, before he destroys the door with those dinner-plate sized paws," Hermione said.

Charlie laughed, rolling off her.

"Bloody hell, I should shower before I go to work, or the lizards are going to try and eat me again," he said, climbing to his feet and scrubbing his hands over his face and into his red hair. "They took issue with your scent all over me, yesterday."

"If you take the time to shower now, your mother is going to come back up here and start poking around in your things looking for clues as to whose knickers are in your hamper," Hermione told him.

"If she hears the shower running, she'll know you're here, too," Charlie told her, frowning a little. "Are you planning to come down and say hello?"

Hermione frowned a little, sitting up slowly and covering herself with the sheet for a minute when he opened the door to let Sprocket into the room once more. She narrowed her eyes when Crookshanks streaked in after the dog and dove beneath the bed, clearly not pleased about Molly's arrival, either.

"If she sees me here, she'll likely try and ship me off to the Burrow with all of them," Hermione admitted. "Even if she doesn't work out that I'm sharing your bed."

"Don't want to go?" Charlie asked, raising one eyebrow.

"It might be a bit awkward," Hermione confessed. "I expect Ron might be… a bit…"

Charlie raised one eyebrow as he pulled on some track pants, clearly planning to return to the room and change before going to work later.

"What's the deal there?" Charlie asked. "How likely is my little brother to try and knock my head off when he finds out about this?"

He waved a finger between the two of them indicatively.

Hermione sighed.

"I doubt he'll be angry with you," Hermione admitted. "He'll just take his temper out on me and likely call me a trollop. We…. Well, I don't know if you knew about the girl he was dating last year?"

She raised her eyebrows at him.

"Lavender Brown, right?" Charlie guessed.

Hermione nodded. "She's in my year at school. A right cow, if I'm honest. She's always been horrid to me, and when she and Ron started dating she knew I'd fancied him for a bit, and she rubbed it in with a vengeance. Anyway, when he was accidentally poisoned he said my name while he was unconscious. They broke up, and Harry told me that Ron said he'd mostly started dating her to begin with to feel out whether or not I had feelings for him."

"Which you do?"

"Did," Hermione corrected with a shrug. "I could take an educated guess at who suggested he date someone else to make me jealous and force my hand, and unfortunately the woman is entirely too meddlesome and doesn't know me nearly as well as she imagines. I was annoyed, and I was hurt, and then I got over it. I spent most of last year shagging someone else – though Ron doesn't know about that, either."

"Who?" Charlie asked, frowning at her.

"You'll think ill of me if I tell you," Hermione hedged, frowning at him as she rose to her feet and used her wand to clean up the mess they'd made between her thighs before pulling on some knickers and her bra.

"I'll think worse of you if you leave me to imagine all the horrid people I can think of," Charlie argued.

Hermione sighed. She supposed there was no harm in telling him. The worst he could do was tell Ron, and Hermione was prepared to handle that, should it come to that.

"Theodore Nott," she admitted with a heavy sigh as she fished a pair of denim-short and a loose-fitting tank top from the top drawer across the room and pulled them on. "He's a Slytherin bloke in my year at Hogwarts."

"His Dad's a Death Eater, Hermione," Charlie frowned at her. "Bill and I had a run in with Thoros Nott about a month ago in Diagon Alley when Bill was on his way to work after meeting me for lunch. If Finn hadn't been there, we'd likely have ended up dueling to death in that dingy side-street."

Hermione nodded.

"I know Thoros is a Death Eater. I know they pressured Theo to take the Dark Mark, too. He showed it to me before the end of term last year when we ended our… arrangement… following his being branded, and his betrothal to Daphne Greengrass."

Charlie was frowning at her.

"You didn't care that he was a bigot?" Charlie asked.

"Theo's not a bigot, actually," Hermione said, smiling sadly. "He cried when he showed me the mark and told me the things they'd forced him to do to 'earn' it. They used the Imperius curse on him, and the Cruciatus, from what I gathered."

Charlie frowned, nodding a little.

"You cared for him," he said, tipping his head to one side.

"I did," Hermione confessed, nodding her head. "I still care about him, to be completely honest. And as such I know that continued association will only hurt both of us. The point is, since I was shagging him in broom cupboards, I rather got over being quite so interested in Ron. But, as I said, Ron doesn't know about Theo and I, and so I expect that when the times comes that the two of us are alone, he's eventually going to initiate some kind of conversation to feel out whether or not I still fancy him, and that'll be rather awkward if it's just me, Ron and Ginny there with your Mum and Dad for the holidays."

Charlie was still frowning at her, looking a bit like he didn't know what to make of the things she'd shared, and Hermione wondered if he thought less of her for shagging the son of a Death Eater.

"So, you're going to hide up here, instead?" Charlie asked eventually, choosing not to comment on her past paramours.

"Well, the alternative is to come down there and make nice with your mother while she suspiciously wonders if it's me you're shagging before she guilt-trips me into going to the Burrow despite my reservations, just like she guilt-tripped you into letting her do the laundry," Hermione informed him.

Charlie sighed. "Probably true," he admitted. "But if you don't come down and say hello, and then she gets wind of how long you've been here, she might be offended."

Hermione realized with a jolt that he was right, and she got the feeling it would be better to face Molly today, even if it did rouse the woman's suspicious nature, than it would to deal with how cold she'd be later if Hermione hid from her.

"Fine," she muttered. "You go first. If we arrive together she'll know we're shagging."

"She might not try to make you leave if she knows we're shagging," Charlie suggested.

Hermione couldn't help the snort that escaped her.

"If she thinks you and I have ever been alone in the same room together, fully clothed, she'll have kittens, Charlie," Hermione told him. "Are Remus and Tonks still here?"

"I don't know," Charlie shrugged. "What day is it?"

"Wednesday," Hermione supplied.

"Uh… Wednesdays Tonks usually has a training day at the Auror office and I think Remus is off duty. He might've gotten himself a job in his off hours, though. He mentioned looking at one over the weekend."

"So, we might be alone in the house with your mother," Hermione said.

"No need to say it like you're facing off against a hundred angry Death Eaters, Granger," Charlie chuckled.

"I'd have better odds against them than against your mother if she decides she's unhappy about just which one of her sons I'm shagging," Hermione muttered darkly.

Charlie snorted.

"Why would she care?" he wanted to know. "She'll be happy to think I might settle down, I'd reckon. With Bill's wedding on the horizon, she's taken to nagging me that it's high time I though about a wife and kids, myself."

"Well, don't look at me," Hermione held up her hands defensively. "I still have a year before I graduate Hogwarts."

Charlie wrinkled his nose at the reminder.

"I feel old when you say shit like that," he informed her. "Blimey, maybe you  _should_  go with Mum to the Burrow and hang-out with my kid-siblings,  _koroleva_. I've got seven years on you."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm of legal age, Charlie. That's the only number that matters."

"What? You reckon you wouldn't care if I was even older?" he scoffed.

Hermione shrugged. "I might," she said. "If you were too old to get it up."

Charlie's eyes widened, and his ears turned red at her boldness before he cracked a wide grin and began to laugh.

"Just using me for a quick shag, then?" he smirked.

Hermione rolled her eyes, not bothering to answer.

"Just go and face off with your mother before she comes looking, would you?" Hermione asked, frowning at him once more.

"What are you going to do?"

"Probably pack my things, knowing she'll guilt me into leaving."

"You probably should go," Charlie said.

"You just say that so you won't have to share the bed, anymore," Hermione rolled her eyes, picking up one of the books from her trunk and supposing she should spend the day doing her assigned homework reading, even if there was some doubt that she'd be returning to Hogwarts in September.

Charlie shook his head, raising his eyebrows and finishing getting dressed as Hermione opened the book and began to wander down the stairs, intent on thinking up a lie about needing a cup of tea or wanting some lunch. She needed an excuse as to her presence in the kitchen, and she was hungry, but she didn't fancy having Molly think she'd been shagging Charlie.

She heard voices coming from the kitchen before she reached it and Hermione smiled a little more to herself when she realized Remus was home and already in there chatting to Molly. Good. That would help to distract her.

"What are you talking about, Molly?" Remus was saying. "Charlie hasn't got a girl here."

He sounded amused, like the idea was a joke, but Hermione suspected he knew exactly which girl was in Charlie's bed and he was covering for her.

"There are girl's things in his hamper, Remus," Molly said.

"Probably Dora's," Remus said, and Hermione caught the way he shrugged his shoulders as Hermione strolled into the kitchen with her nose in a book. "You know how she is about leaving things all over the floor in the bathroom. Maybe Charlie scooped them up with his things by accident."

Remus Lupin, Hermione realized with an amused jolt, was a Marauder through and through. That much was clear in just the ability he had to lie to figures of authority whilst looking them dead in the eye and seeming entirely nonchalant as he did so. He didn't twitch or fidget, as Ron tended to. He didn't go on the offensive as Harry was prone to doing. He simply gave a little smile as though Molly was making mountains out of molehills over something entirely unimportant and Hermione didn't think she could've been more grateful.

What was more, when he spotted her – and Hermione could tell in a heartbeat that he knew exactly where she'd spent the night and what she'd been doing with Charlie upstairs, just now – he didn't greet her with a bid of good morning or any surprise to see her for the first time that day. No, Remus covered for her all the more by keeping from drawing attention to her entrance into the kitchen, and by grinning at Molly a little when the woman huffed like she wasn't sure she should believe Remus's suggestion about the women's clothes in Charlie's hamper.

"Morning, Remus," Charlie greeted when he strode into the kitchen behind her and Molly turned in his direction, noticing Hermione for the first time as she carefully trailed across the kitchen toward the kitchen without lifting her eyes from her book and giving no indication that she knew Molly was there.

"Morning, Charlie," Remus greeted. "Feeling better this morning?"

"Better?" Molly asked. "What was wrong with you, Charlie, dear?"

"Got a bit banged up at work yesterday, Mum," Charlie waved her off. "Nothing to worry about. Morning, Hermione."

Hermione looked over, raising her eyebrows at him and feigning that she'd been entirely enthralled by her book.

"Oh," she said. "Good morning, Charlie. Still wounded, or have you recovered?"

Charlie grinned at her.

"I'm alright, thanks to your patch up job."

"Hermione?" Molly asked, before looking in her direction and seeming to spot her for the first time.

Hermione suspected the woman was so utterly perplexed by the mystery of the clothes in Charlie's hamper that she'd stopped paying attention to her surroundings.

"Oh, good morning, Mrs Weasley," Hermione said, pasting on her widest smile and looking at the portly witch with happiness.

Actually, she didn't have to feign happiness to see the woman. After all, she was something of a second mother to Hermione, so when she actually laid eyes on her, Hermione felt warmth well up inside of her and she forgot some of her worries about the woman realizing Hermione was shagging Molly's son.

"Hermione, dear? When did you get here? Oh, look at you, darling. You're half-starved. Haven't your parents been taking good enough care of you these holidays? Merlin, girl, you're wasting away. Come here," Molly nattered, clucking her tongue as she looked her over critically, her eyes softening with affection before she crossed the kitchen and drew Hermione into a warm embrace.

Hermione bit her lip when it wobbled, the urge to cry welling up within her as she was engulfed in a mother's warm hug. If she clung to Molly a little longer than she ordinarily might've, Molly didn't seem to mind, and Hermione felt the woman smooth soothing circles over her back.

"Oh, but when did you get here, dear? We'll have something to eat, won't we? Charlie's due for some breakfast and you're just skin and bone, love. You'll have something," Molly said firmly when she pulled back, holding Hermione at arm's length for a moment and smiling affectionately into her face.

"I…" Hermione's voice wobbled just a bit and she gave Molly a watery smiled. "I wouldn't mind a snack. I'll put the kettle on, shall I?"

She did so, turning away before Molly could examine her too closely and see the dark circles under her eyes or notice the shadows in her brown eyes.

"Why not, love?" Molly said happily. "Charlie, be a dear and feed that dog before he tries to snatch the bacon from me, would you? Remus, dear? Are you hungry? You're skin and bones too. Honestly, I just don't know how you haven't all wasted away to nothing."

Hermione smiled a little to herself, catching's Remus's eye as she used her wand to bring the kettle to a boil before filling the teapot with tea leaves and water, and carrying it over to the table. She levitated four cups in her wake, sitting down beside Remus and opposite Charlie.

"Tea, Charlie?" Hermione asked of her lover quietly, offering him a cup.

"Love some," he nodded, tracing his eyes over her in a way that kind of made her nervous and Hermione looked away.

Meeting Remus's eyes again as Molly fussed by the stove, cooking them all a hearty breakfast, Hermione shot the werewolf an expression of gratitude for his quick thinking and his lies.

"Studying hard, Hermione?" Remus asked conversationally.

"I have summer homework," Hermione confessed. "Though I'm not certain I should bother doing it. We might not return to Hogwarts."

"I beg your pardon?" Molly asked, turning to look at her.

Hermione looked over, raising her eyebrows.

"I said I might not return to Hogwarts, Mrs Weasley," Hermione answered, repeating herself. "Being best friends with Harry hasn't exactly made it safe for me to do so, especially being that I'm also muggleborn. We've all seen the papers. Hogwarts won't be safe for Harry. Snape's got it in his grip and the Death Eaters will pounce on him and drag him to You-Know-Who. Their mandate that everyone of school-age must attend tells us that much. If Harry goes to Hogwarts this year, he'll be snatched away. And if Ron or I go without him, we'll be dragged off and tortured until we give Harry up, I expect."

Molly looked rather shocked to hear her say it and Hermione recalled that even last year Molly hadn't wanted Ginny and Ron to return to school, fearing for their safety.

"You'll be in danger if you don't go, Hermione," Remus said seriously, frowning. "The teachers can protect you at Hogwarts."

Hermione shook her head. "Not now that they've made Snape Headmaster. Not after what he did to Professor Dumbledore."

"If you stay away, you'll be persecuted," Remus argued.

"I'm already being persecuted," Hermione said. "I'm muggle-born, Remus. I've already received my summons from the Ministry demanding I go forth and register to myself as a muggleborn. They asked me to bring proof of purchase for my wand to avoid being accused of having stolen it. I can hardly set foot in Hogwarts without registering and I'm not about to go anywhere near a sector of the Ministry being run by Umbridge. Not after I set Grawp on her before letting the Centaurs carry her off. If she doesn't immediately hand me over to the Death Eaters as their plaything, she'll give me straight to the Dementors and command them to suck out my soul."

Remus went pale at her words and Hermione shrugged helplessly at him, knowing he'd know entirely too well about the consequences of becoming registered for something with the Ministry for Magic. After all, he was on the werewolf Registry. She'd bet they'd been trying to reach him by owl, too, intent on questioning him. Hermione wondered how he and Tonks would be getting around having Tonks be an Auror when her husband was, technically, a fugitive.

It occurred to Hermione almost instantly just why it was that though they'd tied the knot, there hadn't been a fancy ceremony, and why she hadn't been invited to the wedding. They hadn't wanted anyone to know because if they knew, Tonks would be brought under scrutiny for her husband's activities and whereabouts.

"I suppose we'll all have to discuss it, Hermione dear. Here, have some breakfast, won't you?" Molly said, looking pensive as she brought over the hastily cooked food and served the three of them, not taking any for herself.

"Thank you, Mrs Weasley," Hermione said politely.

"Thanks, Mum. Smells good," Charlie told the woman, reaching over and giving her hand a squeeze.

"What were you saying about an accident at work, Charlie?" Molly asked, raising her eyebrows and tracing her eyes over her son.

"It was nothing, Mum. One of my lizards got a bit stroppy with me, but I'm fine. Hermione here patched me up alright when I got home," Charlie nodded his head at her and Hermione's cheeks turned pink.

"Oh, thank you, dear," Molly said. "How badly were you injured, Charles? Burns, bites, or cuts?"

Hermione pressed her lips together when Charlie paled a little at having his mother use his full name.

"Uh… all three, Mum," Charlie admitted.

"Oh, I do wish you'd think about a less dangerous profession, darling," Molly sighed. "It's bad enough in these times worrying for everyone's safety. I don't need the added stress of knowing you might be eaten on any given day."

"My lizards aren't going to eat me, Mum," Charlie rolled his eyes. "I'm too gamy."

"Too stringy, more like," Molly sniffed. "Honestly, I don't know why you won't just take your meals at the Burrow. I'm going to have to speak to your father. Look at the state of you. All of you. The three of you look half-starved. We'll just have to push forward our return here. Probably just as well, anyway. The place is a pig-sty."

Hermione watched the way Molly scowled around the kitchen for a moment before her eyes widened when she noticed that the kitchen was actually quite clean, and had been refurbished.

"I… Merlin's beard, what happened in here?" Molly exclaimed.

"Hermione got bored yesterday," Remus grinned, reaching over and clapping Hermione on the shoulder.

"You did all this?" Molly asked, turning to look at Hermione.

"I thought it was high time we made this place look like we actually all live here, don't you?" Hermione asked, smiling rather fondly around at the walls she'd re-papered.

"How long have you been here that you managed all this, dear?" Molly asked. "Why didn't you come to the Burrow? I thought you were expecting to spend a while longer with your folks before coming to us?"

"Mum," Charlie began, looking awkward when Hermione's lower lip trembled. "Leave her be, yeah? Hermione's had a rough go of it so far these holidays."

Molly frowned, looking over at Charlie in confusion before looking back at Hermione. Remus took pity on the confused witch, squeezing Hermione's hand reassuringly when she opened her mouth to try and explain, but only managed a squeak.

"Oh, no," Molly said, softly. "What's happened, love?"

"To protect her parents, knowing they might be targeted because of her association with Harry, Hermione has… modified their memories," Remus explained to Molly quietly. "She's made them forget ever having her, and sent them off to live abroad, beyond the reach of the Death Eaters."

Molly's gasp was loud in the quiet room, and Hermione felt more tears overflow from her eyes despite having squeezed them closed.

"Oh, dear. To have erased so much of their lives…. Almost eighteen years of…" Molly shook her head and Hermione could feel the judgement in her silence.

To Molly, such a betrayal from a child was unfathomable and unforgivable, Hermione was sure. To have made her parents forget her existence, Hermione  _had_  wiped large portions of their memories. It had taken a very long time, in fact. Being an only child, and being that her parents had struggled to conceive her and been overjoy to have her, it hadn't been easy to dislodge their recollection of her existence. It had almost broken her spirit to replace their memories of her with happy ones of a life spent together, carefully crafting certain painful memories that would make her mother and father think they'd never succeeded at conceiving a child of their own and that they'd instead embraced their lives as a childless couple.

"How could you…?" Molly began in a quiet voice that seemed at once confused and accusatory, and Hermione couldn't bear it. Rising from the table, she turned away, dashing out of the room before she could break down in front of all of them, all over again.

Tears ran down her cheeks, and Hermione sobbed and she fled the kitchen, not hearing Charlie scold his mother, or Remus telling Molly that she'd been insensitive before the werewolf followed after her.


End file.
